the urgency of recording, as if from a dream, but waking, i thought of someone who but i don't know who, she combs her hair on a patio, a porch, a deck, a balcony, and the birds watch from the trees surrounding, and they come and pick up the strands and weave them into their nests, with twine, and tatters of plastic, and deflated balloons and little graveyard memorial flags, and that's all. i think i shall go on dreaming.