gong... perhaps this is what a boxing glove feels like after a bad fight. not a televised one; one that took place in that gym next to the elevated train station, with kids looking in through the layers of brownish dirt and the scraps of paint that belonged to some sign in the thirties. i could have gone to sleep earlier, of course. and i could have maybe gotten some better rest. but i am a sleep-fighter. there are fold marks on my skin that make me look as if i had been twisted very thoroughly to get all the remaining water out of me. and the place where my rest should have taken place resembles some angry attack scene. perhaps this is what a boxing glove feels like after a bad fight, but it is just a boxing glove after all. and what it will always look forward to is that next brief loving touch of what it feels is living pig skin. off to another fantastic round.