I touch my toes. Doctors say: there’s a lot
going on under the surface even though
everything feels so light. The pipe, for example,
is 78’ deep to the well.
Various apparatus excavate my skeletal
system and other systems. And memories and
other emissions emerge. Including desire. I
hear a pop.
Lipstick drips from my hips to my eye-holes.
And the wallpaper is peeling. And so am I.
And the audience’s immobile reaction is
incongruous with the performed action.
I suppose something had to happen to my
body to realize I had one.