Or do I mean poetry? If I had a schedule, I'd expect the train to whistle on cue, which is does though I don't. Took me what felt like all afternoon to tie transparent thread around the neck of a doll-sized aspirin bottle. Next, I'll use a thumbtack to install it in my “Cloud Nine/Sister(')(s)(') Repair Kit.” I'm snapping my fingers to make 5:15 happen faster. Then 5:whatever, then whatever:whatever. What I do when I'm not doing this, I can't say. The dolls-brunettes-specialize in smugness. As for reading and being read, they're against it. If I put them on a train, they show up at the next station, right on time. If I write them into a poem as I've been advised, it's like I believe it.