Snippet from another old book

Transient Songs is kind of from another era, and it's a little bit of Seattle to me. The poem that is quoted on their site is about staying in motels. The end of it goes: "I am addicted to myself / to my solitude / my own silent reflection in mirrors / scattered / mind caught on a thought / untangled braids and fingers / without a match." I think the price of this book went up 400 percent since I bought it over a decade ago. I have some friends that are from a family with 2 sets of identical twins. I'll have to tell them about this site. I think they'd find it interesting. Wow, it is so early in the morning and there was just a sound almost like a car accident somewhere, with an alarm going off but then it stopped. Good grief, insomnia. Boxes of old stuff. I need liberation from material possessions!