My friend C cannot find a steady job because he has long hair, like a little girl and really believes in his poetry. My friend D, always frustrated about her health and family, worries in a suffocating room with no windows. My friend E, embittered by the political impasse arrogantly retires to nature to be a weekend hermit. My friend F, still plays like a kid, dreaming of making money to buy perpetual comfort. Divorce has forced many children to fly through the air helpless and resentful their hearts beating in vain.
People dread fat more than nuclear bombs.
My honeymoon with America has ended something has ended I am ready for a separation. America is blurring. Just as we cannot count snowflakes my karma piles up across the Pacific Ocean. My parents are opening their eyes. They see me winging to them.