Remember the remote controls nothing that you really want or need. Go to a movie instead or eat some custard. Both are far, but you can walk.

Don't mind the little sand showers that fall in the hearth sometimes. It only means that ambulances are driving by.

Lock the back door because sometimes Pankley climbs the fire escape and bangs on the back door in the name of his Hate. He does it to everyone. And because he owes us money.

Leave my subway token alone. It is my only link to the New York I knew and loved and survived. Take some quarters if you have to wash.

If the spiders come, don't move a muscle. They don't know your smell.

Smoke reefer on the balcony. You will see the helicopters from there. And women come to sit on the wall below. Drop down matches so they see you.

Do not leave out a dish of wet food for the dog I imagine--earwigs!

The walls taste better licked up high.

Call Army Tom if you need to wash. He has a phone number.

Let the washer run as if I had just stepped away. Its heat is my ghost.

Movies, fine. But custard is troubling sometimes. There is plenty of paper.

Remember me in various locations throughout the rooms. I especially like the kitchen nook and I wouldn't mind a little glass of juice.

The towels leave fuzz if you don't shave first. It's okay.

The coat tree is positioned so to shiver a stalker into your mental rooms if you're not quite looking. Let it. It does that to me too.

The whorls of dark grease in the tub are also me. Do not remove them, if possible.

Don't use the fan to chop! The chopping board is a nice place to put your toast for a moment.

I used to have a dog. See if you can find her. The name was Gussie, if you want to know. Walk around the block. Pinkly can find another street to sit and smoke.

The fireplace is black from old char. From the nineteen-twenties, I think. It doesn't smell.

The man in the other window is an architect. Avoid him, but see if you can steal the ideas off his desk with the telescope.

Plonkly is altogether different. He is a passive joker by comparison. He doesn't even know his right name. Dust a line of boric acid at the door so he won't step over. If you yell "Bitch, where's my money?" he will also leave.

The traffic lights make deep, fat clicks at night. I hope your soul doesn't go right out the window. You don't have to listen.

The smoke sensor is wrong. I store its batteries in the freezer. Is this okay by you? The extra custard is not yours.

There is no hidden firearm, so don't search. Someone did before and messed up! Use the fish knife instead if you hear any activity at all on the fire escape. No matter what he says, we owe him nothing.

Watch the neighborhood watch watching us. And the women.

(Light the paper lantern and draw the drape between the living room and study in case of Love. Everything will glow that way. They like it.)