I've had a lot of poem ideas today. One had to do with ambulance drivers in New York City. There was something to do about Chemistry, something about physics.

Speaking of science, Christmas is in a few days and I don't know what disease I have. I would love to take a long nap on this Amtrak and for my inbox to fill with job offers and I-miss-you emails from people, preferably real. You ever have a conversation with someone over email? Really?

I don't get the New Yorker sent to my house anymore, unlike the girl in the row across from me who probably does. She is reading the magazine. It looks new. Where do you keep your stack of unread magazines, girl?

I have many asleep under my bed.