from Letters to Wendy's, a series of unlineated poems written, over the course of a year or so, on Wendy's restaurant's comments cards.

September 5, 1996

Naturally I think about smashing the skulls and the ribcages of the other customers. They stand in line so smug--like they were safe, outside the desires of or for an other. It's as if, for them, there is no other's desire--as if desire was one thing, and was ours. Restraining myself is not dishonest. It's a way of maintaining a keen sense of the unforeseeable injuries which shall reunite us.

--Joe Wenderoth