2 March 2004 | Vol. 4, No. 1

Cyclops Mary Down the Avenue, A Monologue

                         (part II)

Yeah, I heard it.

Saw the whole thought form

from out the back of his head,

then take shape into one lust-musty sentence.

I saw

his sick-yellow eyes.

White spit beading at the corners of his mouth.

Yeah. I heard it.