Untitled(i see a generation that hasn’t said what is art, she said.

i crossed sandy blvd. h was there in a black skirt. her thumb got bigger every time i saw it. it was like a culinary tool.my white sneakers were clumsy. i felt ugly not having made money. the pork sandwich i had made me nauseous. i felt like incest. the pork had had its shapeand texture and now it had no shape.b cared about me. i knew that she did. i could see her suffer for me unlike another woman i liked who didn’t care for me. i wanted to see the man she likes. she said that she had bee