In a park with a gazebo, perhaps the day after a county fair, with hay scattered among trampled grass, I was trying desperately -- to the point of tears -- to convince two girls selling cheeseburgers out of a paper bag, to sell me three cheeseburgers for my schizophrenic brother who had locked himself in the gazebo & had been there all night in an "episode." knew that my brother needed three cheeseburgers in order to regain control, but the girls said that he didn't need three, that he only needed two, & they were strict in their refusal. My brother's face had disappeared. His torso was turned facing me at times, but his face was gone, as if rubbed out. I was screaming, flailing at the girls for three cheeseburgers. They eventually ran away.

I was in a very cluttered, labyrinthine house, lost. One side of the house's facade was missing, exposing it to the outside. The house was some kind of group home for adults with disabilities, and I was there as a staff member, there to care for them, though in each room I entered I felt deranged and couldn't tell the difference between the disabled and the other staff members there as workers.

While walking into some room where no people were I suddenly shit my pants in a single, swift burst. The shit ran through my pants and made an instant trail, which seemed to encompass the entire floor-space of the room. As I was trying to simultaneously clean the floor and remove my pants — panicked and embarrassed — Bethany Wright came into the room. When she saw me she burst into tears — in as quick and short a burst as my shit. She then disappeared as I continued to try frantically to clean my mess, and came back a few minutes later, smiling beneficently, offering a clean issue of clothing.

I then put on the clothing, and donned over it a black garbage bag, and continued through the house.

In a darkened classroom with bare concrete walls and floors, crowded with mostly middle-aged overweight people.

A trailer for a movie, made by someone I didn't like (and who was also gregariously present in the room), was being projected against the wall. The trailer was an arial shot of a long row of truck trailers forming a circle, with the voicover, "Come see my new movie, 'Allen Ginsberg and Me Waiting for the Long Bus.'"

Everyone was laughing hard, but I was angry. I stood up and shouted, sarcastically, "Don't you think this is just a little politically heavy handed?!" As I sat down I made eye contact with Lyn Hejinian, who I knew was there (though I had been trying to avoid her so to avoid the possibility of embarrassing myself), and who gave a very emphatic "Yes!"

But no one else had heard Heijinian, or me. They were all still roaring, and most had left their seats and were walking around the room, which had become something of a party.