Now it is Wednesday, day of broken glass in the kitchen. I get home and read about a birthday, play silhouettes and why not? A first impression is a swivel chair of embarrassing moments. Anything will do. Of course there is a small table between days, I put it there and explained penetration to you. Curved, about to break down like a boy rubbing his eyes with his fists. I am one of them. I smoke and drink and this is Sunday: “Remind me again, there are how many muscles in the mouth?” I think of something small enough to hide inside a gun. Next week there will be a note for me. I will be standing eager in the front door like a twin about to fall. I’ll be stuck in this and want to touch it, feeling, in all actuality, four days at once penetrating my body. Hard, but totally at ease with it.