That Guy Has A Dorsal Fez

If the mosquitoes can get through, there must be some way to start making things bigger and smaller at the same time. When the accident started, I was in a daze. I'm still in a daze, upside down et cetera and with someone named Magnum I marauded in a dream last night, ran alongside walls, rode motorcycles encrusted with jewels over ancient maroon mansion carpets. All things were plastic, and cops could not catch me, even when they had a hold of me, I managed to jump out into space where I became ungrabbable...not space like final frontier space but space like free air above our heads. Then, riding lightning and whatever else happens nothing is for us but the smooth ejection of power. I think about the power of a man, a Bush, an Obama, a Castro. I wonder what things move through such minds as sleep approaches. Interesting things, or things that would make me nauseous? Going forward in a car over rocks and dirt. Nice to feel wired nature of the world unfold and unwind just a small bit. Peel of orange makes something for nothing in iridium chambers. Light on your fingers makes me say we should harvest figs again. In the distance a barbecue grill, dull black but still shining in spots, apple-shaped, with three legs, shadow casting a dull blob against dawnlight off-white cinderblock wall. Casting off my old garments, nothing but a bigger and bigger pile before I befriend my laundering self again.