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June 8, 2001
David Wolf

David Wolf
in this new millenium
will you return my calls?
Have the sloped walls
in your apartment collapsed
more like shoulders
from the show tunes and scripts
that form the exhaust trail
of your living?

I need to know that you aren't
buried in that tiny place down
by Waverly St, from which I
trudged drunken after that
New Year's night that was almost
awful, but was saved by a fifth
of Jim Beam and your video
collection.
Why do you live the way you do,
David Wolf?
After 4 years without talking,
do we exist anymore?