17
says, —throw the cow over the fence some hay/I am on the books read/strong glasses for see—
returns to the book,
[thinking: It bothers , the inevitability of body, of forgetting what was once, of a part of “turned off,” like a light; the inevitability of becoming human, the inability to notice drift—
says, —is made of glucose and galactose, of body and brain sugars, and my stomach can’t handle the combination—
digresses with compulsion to explain to me the chemistry of milk,