zodiac4 Feb 2004

LENORE: I am not the narrator of this poem. Please do not extrapolate. The narrator is a fictional assistant producer of guided meditational cds on an unknown label, speaking from his palatial (yet oddly sterile) LA-hills bungalow. The ending is abrupt because immediately after speaking the last line he falls asleep. You might argue that this ending is not realistic or in keeping with the situation built by the first stanzas, to which I would answer that the fantastical fictional framework of the fictional asst producer I have created allows me to do whatever the fuck I want with him. And I pretty much ran out of rhymes for 'was' ('fuzz' and 'scuzz' not being able to fit in a productive way,) and along (ditto for 'dong', 'schlong', and 'bong'.) Since you will apparently rampage until someone critiques your last post, I will do us all a favor.