my smelly sneakers  remind me that i exist. i smell them all of a sudden and then i don’t. i’m not sure if i took my meds. it stays in my system for two days. i’m going to have a whisky later with a. she has nice fingers. she likes data. i shed data. everyone has my data. they have my numbers, the ones that count, the ones i remember even though i don’t want to. they want to send another person my way. i can feel it. i intuit everything. i haven’t interviewed anyone in some time. they send me a woman. she has a distended midsection. she was part
of the happenstance but she doesn’t remember what happened.
i had nothing in my head. i repeated the dialogue from a movie. you have to picture a place in your head, i said. where you can go when you want to get away. it can be a beach house, a condo, an island.
what, she said.
what is your name, i said.
h, she said.
picture a safe place in your head, i said.
we need a leader, she said.
h took off her shirt. she has two wide breasts. she looks distracted.
why was h here? why was I? they never said i have to interview. i make a file for every person they send. did she take off her shirt because she wants me to give her a physical? does she think there is something wrong with her? she looks healthy. i don’t like to put my hands on a person. i don’t think i have ever given one a handshake. i wanted to know who my superiors are. i asked my subjects what they looked like. i asked what they talked about? i asked if they gave instructions for them and for me? the subjects never knew. they looked to me for the answers. on some days i knew what to say and to ask. it felt right and i didn’t question it. i needed to feel productive. the other days i looked for what to think or to do in the books i was reading.
i have another man i see. i think he’s my superior. i can’t tell. i thought that he was a supervisor. then, i thought he was my therapist. he mirrored what i felt and said. when i said that a good woman is hard to find he pulled down his eye. then, i thought he was my father. he said things that didn’t make sense. he said them to throw me off, to test my balance. he pulled out his penis. then, i thought he was an author when i saw him inspecting a deceased man’s mouth.

h looks to her hand. she talks to her hand. she makes a fist. she stands and covers her breasts. she walks away. she can’t get the door open. she doesn’t want to lower her hands. i don’t know if she can go. she can open the door and leave. no one has said she can’t leave. i don’t know how she came to my room. i’m afraid to ask her how she found me. i feel like i should know. i have had so many find their way to me. she may think i’m an idiot if i ask her. i don’t know if she has the wherewithal to think  anyone is an idiot at the moment. she tries to open the door with her mouth. she still needs her hands to cover her breasts. she uses some of her fingers to help her mouth. i run over to her. she grabs my cock. she smacks it hard. she has an omniscient gleam in her eye. they don’t want me to penetrate her or for her to penetrate me. i feel embarrassed for her.
picture a safe place, i said.  do you have it? do you have it? do you have the picture in your head? can you see it?
i can’t see it, she said. i can’t see. i want to see it. i can hear something.