I’ve got Desire in my heart, take it away. I’ve got a brown nose and an old face. That’s what the mirror is showing me while through its other side I ignore my rogue reflection romping my regalia.

Mobius Strip or a karmic circle coalescing, overlapping.

The man is there, in the building across the way. Standing at his window, wearing a tie dye shirt. The sky above his building has grey clouds floating quickly through it. Beethoven’s Ninth is in black and white on Youtube. A good conductor can be trusted. They are more perfect when they are more than actors, more than dancers.

Call me Deckard today, I tell Lestrade.

That man in the tie dye is scanning me. Right in my face. I can’t avoid the splash of color his bulky body blasts across the street.

Just plug your ears, says Lestrade.

The coffee is almost gone. I had a whole press to myself.

Maybe that should be one of my goals, I tell Lestrade, to be freshly pressed.

You’ve got bigger fish to fry, he says.

I get in the shower.


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