untitled scrawl: still yet again, may '97

The Public Library grumbles
some self-gripe about
being stationed in a
college town.
I scramble to avoid
envisioning a tired vision
of a certain someone
wanting to spin clothes with me.
The People are checked
by the future and left
to get colder. Doesn't
look like the Swinehouse
has anyone to shoot today.
And I'm still trying to
swallow my excuse.