A credit card statement arrives, I follow the charges. I too fly to the Azores. I check into the same hotel and walk to the beach. Once there, I fantasize about a reunion with my vote: we would regard the pretty blue water, the pretty blue sky. I would ask my vote to come home, but if it responded We are already home, then I would not disagree, and we would remain there until our nation, and perhaps our world, decided to share in the peace that we already enjoyed.

I'm thinking of a meeting
On the corner of a street
Involving hailing cabs and flirting
With someone I'd like to meet

We'd smile to each other
While standing in the rain
And quietly confess
To passing up the train

We'd together flag a cab
The only one to get
Then saddle up inside
Dripping from the wet

To the driver we'd say "Drive."
Not caring where we went
Our driver'd nod and smile
Knowing what we meant

In precipitating weather
Someone and I ?

Shit, another cab's gone by

It's three a.m. Pee-Wee Herman, popular children's show goofball/weirdo, fresh out of jail for wanking in a theatre, corners you in a dark alley, unshaven, matted tendrils of unkempt hair standing up on his head at impossible angles, 100 mm cigarette left burning and unashed in the corner of his mouth. He's been drinking. His breath like hot garbage as he mutters strings of lurid filth close into your ear. You throw up a little in your mouth and suddenly start weeping as one unwashed hand creeps up your shirt.

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