On one hand a news jump cut
from a blown fuse box (a boy
pointing to a burned wall) to
the electrocuted man
(shot of cables in the rain).
On the other I tell my students
the new confessionalism, always
incomplete. Never
complete me. Even the woman
who took her own life
began for me once I knew
it wasn’t me. It wasn’t a matter
of taking my own life. The new
confessionalism is not to be trusted,
like the old. Like the dairy or the meat
or hair coloring. For the first time I’m on
a special diet. The world is what
I can’t eat. And this weekend
what I can’t touch or come close to,
children, pregnant ladies, I can keep
a good 5 feet away from adults.
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