Perfidy in Line Waiting, Three Power Chords Ignite A Flame

*****
I live in a town that Sinclair Lewis wouldn't have known
what to do with in terms of easy reducibility. There is
construction, the weakest approximation of a domed sports
facility this side of Eastern Europe, seven restaurants
featuring sandwiches and fries, and sloped sidewalks.


For some reason I have been listening to music that sounds
like Neil Young in a haze of cough syrup.

The biggest thing that happened to me today was a leaky
coffee mug; I still am at a life stage where I study for
tests.


Taking tests is probably what I am best at.

I am the only individual on the upper level of a library, which
is where the heat stays and the old books go to die.
I thought I read this sentence today: "There is no surfeit
of glory" but I had skipped a line.


*****

Tomorrow I will take this to some other place.