When The Beer Is Gone,

I Am Not Quite Myself, I Think.but Who Here Is Quite Himself? And Yet There Is A Way In Which We Are All More Ourselves Than Ever, I Suppose.

I Moved Through The Days Like A Severed Head That Finishes A Sentence.

I Get Rational When I Panic.

The Other Day I Was Playing Scrabble. I Saw That I Could Close The Space In D-e- -y. I Had An N And An F. Which Do You Think I Chose? What Was The Word I Made?

When The Beer Is Gone, So Are They -- Flexing Their Cars On Up The Boulevard.