last confession to her, so many I lost count

it was a set of excuses, I ate two tums & pounded my chest

(I dumped the rhythm of the songs, they sounded a wreck

to clear whatever was lodged,

had never been to Dodge, nor got the hell out,

what was truly wrong w/ my insides

I wrote Bee and left a small gift between the folds,

was unsatisfied with how I wrote the header,

tore it out and put it in a new envelope, and found

the gift on the floor later, after I'd sealed the letter
& the Olympia away

sat for hours, then

to get fully a grasp on the predicament that lay ahead

I am to turn the page on another year

revel in my minor works, type to beb,

apply myself, for jubs, to Bee,

thought of Amy and wrote, as she would've wanted

thought of L, staring back at me

through & through

the icon, always ahead due to the curvature of the Earth

knowing there is no going back to this

(I grab myself and shake it all around

What in this July hum that sang no words
terrifies Quinn & bores him dead
hardly holds his own
I wait for a firm answer from nobody.