" Stalker


The light so thick nothing’s visible, cognoscenti

I knew them, stupid apes. Real apes know more

Before we said apes. I know how to be you bet-

ter — a stupid voice. You must find a mind

to respect — why? There was someone with ear

buds, speaking gibberish who wouldn’t

stop walking beside me; freckle-spattered. I

had to ask the métro attendant for help;

she extricated him from me ... I respect his chaotic

speech, mild adhesive force because it makes no sense.

I am back on the alley, discovering adults are un-

trustworthy: someone’s lying ... about a

fight between a teenage girl and boy — he pushed

her hard — first she badly scratched him, she’s worse, his

mother says. I’m back at pre-beginning, I don’t

want to go through that again. There is no

sexuality in chaos, there’s no style, nor

hope. I want style — apes have style, people

have machines. Show me something to respect

This bleuet growing out of a wall on rue d’Hauteville.

I picked it and pressed it in a diary. Every once

in a while I respect a moment. I am back at

pre-beginning: I don’t want to care beyond

this ... sudden hue in the sand, yellow or spotted with an

hallucinated iridescence. The one who is

stalking me ... there has often been someone stalk-

ing me. My destiny. He’s gone, stay here

in this, I can’t be harmed if I’m the only one who’s

thought of being here. Aren’t you lonely? I don’t know. "

― Alice Notley