In Arlington, sleepless, a fetid Mortimer, grasp-ing
license as "Baffled in Inquiry" with a screen-stammer
of Times New Roman fluttered to AIM, out-mouthed, "For
you, my darling, I would be blocked forever"
This notion would haunt him, years later. And from
his stretched vocal's reproduce this, a curdled splash of senti-
ment, yet curving around the edges in the
crass
currency of the lymphoma carefully confining him to the
edges of his hospital bed. His heart crusted the web with its
languishments, trying to find her screen name again.
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