All the texts I really want access to cost a great deal of money. Google Books and other scan technologies may be pressuring copyright law, but it does not answer the issues related to epistemology and equity, this she says researching a commodities article idea only vaguely formed in the direction of "do something on coconuts," borrowing from Time correspondents, in other words, sort of but not really. How would you define fair trade?
Farmers in the golden triangle should be able to prosper, but I think I want to examine or ridicule retail rather than scurry out to Asia to help life long sexual abuse victims. My old mentor, you remember him, right? Before I contacted him in 07, not wanting to because I knew I'd get emotional, I found a page of his poetry similar to what he used to workshop, fragmenting the battered female. I liked those pieces better than I like Vulgar Exhibitions. Sorry Jerry. Compassion, shame, it is all out the window at this point, and more than likely I did not want to sleep with you, but transferred my stepfather's abuse onto you. Ah ha. Key in the lock and it doesn't matter, does it?
We're all dead, I consider myself a bloody failure, you settled in a Louisiana swamp. I am one of those women in your stanzas, however, slumped over the toilet seat, not tripping only by virtue of the fact I am not street wise in these fevered cycles. A man of great foresight you were. I cannot tell you to go fuck yourself, as you advised me not to run back to the city, and it was never entirely rational, what I thought I needed from you, or my suave history teacher whom I never named. If I had married a fellow like either of you, would I have been happy? Remember what you did not want to say when I wrote the anagram poem of my name by mistake, flushing my identity down the sewer?
"It's it's--" his hyper Irish voice trailed off, unable to look too closely at my vision of my own self-image.
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