PHOTO/ILLUSTRATION/POEM/BLOG ENTRY - This Morning at The Brite Spot

Brite Spot is a diner.  The ketchup bottle was on the table.  My burrito was pretty good.  I can't sort through my thoughts.  Lately, (today's choice description) I feel like the air has hair and every sound (both sonic and otherwise) pops through my thoughts - sometimes with a hint of chlorine and a pocketful of quarters (the singular hum of complete and total disappearance; bowl cut chub boy with half deaf asian ear on hot concrete - hummmmmmm - you bet).  sometimes, not so much.  I want a new drug.  More time. Less care. Long life. Less razor - and my finger with a smile scrawled with sharpie on the tip of it to be pressed on the spot that does not eject, destruct, activate, demarcate, stop, start, whine, bitch, rant, rave, hug, love, fart, frankenstine, fumble, crumble, illuminate, elevate, sanctify, blame, postulate, theorize, spar, flick, tickle, topple, tag - the thought that scrawled it.