P U R C H A S E D:

A pair of boat shoes, new-old, brown leather, dark and soft, unintentionally like moccasins, with stiff laces that betray their poor quality, although I suspect that all shoes, good and bad, come from the same place; the place of plastic and glue; and they are scented like vinyl, stuffed with papers and otherwise gussied up so that we may buy wealth, symbolically, or poverty, also symbolically.

A pillow of low quality, soft enough.

One old copy of Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, battered, because my Portland copy is MIA and I am lost without my holy book. This is my favorite printing, very seventies, and Annie is on the cover, sitting on some rocks, open-mouthed, looking like she’s been struck by lightening.

Keats: poems and selected letters. Very yellowed.

A backpack, new, an unintentional purchase. It is generic and old looking, which is good, because I am somewhat embarrassed that I bought it at the mall, what with all the backpacks already in the world, and my little canvas black one perfectly good besides.

Six carrots and a bunch of kale, bulk chickpea miso, bulk salsa. A raweo, favorite snack of the winter of 07-08. Soy-free earth balance. Reality-free snack mix. Anti-gravity herbal tea. Dish soap to stop the apocalypse. Bottled in plastic that eats other plastic, goes back in time, stops the fateful sequence of events that set all of this in motion.