I was sitting on a hill trying to fix the lawnmower. I kept tracing the same shapes, over and over again, etching down into the metal. Instead of the lawnmower blade there was a turntable and you had to carefully put the stereo needle in the right groove of a spot with beautiful music. I saw Theo standing on another hill and I yelled as loud as I could, "Hi Theo!" A girl was trying to get the record to play. She couldn't quite get it. She knew it did. So hard to get the record to play. She said, "I'd like to get a hot dog. Watch what I do." I found a piano notebook. ??? I was working on the job. It was a job everybody hated but we all needed. Every once in a while 2 big mafia-like guys would come in the work space and grab somebody--lift him off the ground and carry him out the doors. The worker was always terrified. The rest of us were paralyzed with fear. We had to keep working. When one guy got carted away, I was the one to take over his job, making hot sandwiches on whole pita bread--uncut. There were stacks of square wax paper and round stacks of pita bread you were suppose to cut a slab of hot meat into 3 pieces while it was on top of the pita bread. First you had to put down wax paper. Next to that you had to put a couple of sprigs of broccoli and a dollop of sweet potato soufflé on top of the green. For color. While the guy was showing me, ashes from his cigarette dropped on the sandwich. At first we blew them off, but then the guy decided to toss it out and start over--because ashes were sprinkled over the food and he didn't want the big boss to cart him off too. Maria was sitting, hugging her knees, in the backyard under a bush. She was very happy. She was in her own world and not on earth. She asked me for a cigarette and when I gave her one she sucked in like heaven. I roller skated once again over next to the piers where the health food stores were. There was a class. It was a discussion about old paintings. Messages had been painted into the paintings hundreds of years ago. One painting had an important message for the unborn child of a pregnant woman in the class. A French painting. The painting had no words, the message was just a picture of a young tree. New trendy pizza places had opened up on this street. 3 fancy new restaurants. I had left a phone message for a guy named Perkins about him not being in class and the woman he was in love with was there. Jasmine told me he was very upset about the message I left. We were climbing a huge hill. I was on roller skates and just before I got to the top I had to skate down again. It was so steep and I couldn't decide what to do. I was driving. At the turn in from Hickory Tavern I missed the turn and went into the high school parking lot instead. I didn't see the stop sign. I thought I hit the driving instructor. He filed a report while I typed a poem on the computer that Chuck had left me. One line was, I thought: I want to know. But really it was: I want you to know. Chuck had left a toy skunk in a tree on the left and a monkey in a tree on the right. I traced their outlines through the car windshield. Grandpa was driving and stopped at the curb near the post office and opened the drivers' side door to look at all the stickers inside the hinges inside the door for the car maintenance and race car stickers.