poetry from the performance:

WHEN I WAS A BOY I WOULD SNEAK TO THE LANDFILL A FEW MILES FROM MY HOME AFTER EVERYONE HAD RETIRED FOR THE DAY i JUMPed THE FENCE AND CLIMBed DOWN INTO THE FILTH I WOULD COMB THROUGH GARBAGE FOR HOURS FEELING AS NAUGHTY AS THE FIRST TIME I JERKED OFF BEING VERY CAREFUL NOT TO BE SPOTTED BY PASSING CARS WHAT I FOUND DURING MY DIRTY EXCAVATIONS WOULD SOMETIMES FOLLOW ME HOME OTHER TIMES I WOULD SET THE ITEMS OUT IN ROWS ON THE FRESHLY UPTURNED CLAY AND STAND OVER THEM INSPECTING MY TREASUREs, ONLY TO LEAVE THEM THERE FOR THE WORKERS TO STUMBLE UPON THE NEXT MORNING I WAS VERY PARTICULAR, HOWEVER, ABOUT THE OBJECTS I SELECTED CAREFULLY WEIGHING each one FOR its WORTH I WOULD CONSIDER THEIR value AS POSSIBLE ELEMENTS IN MY ELABORATE PLAY SCHEME THE ULTIMATE PRIZE WAS ALWAYS REPETitIOUS OBJECTS IF I FOUND 10 EXACT COPIES OF SOMETHING I HAD HIT THE MOTHERLOAD AND WOULD SPEND THE REST OF THE EVENING LOOKING FOR MORE OF THE SAME DARKNESS ALWAYS DROVE ME FROM MY SHOPPING SPREE AND I KNEW THAT the next day THESE PRECIOUS RELICS WOULD BE COVERED BY A NEW DAY'S TRASH OH! I WONDER HOW MANY OF THOSE GLASS AVON CARS WERE SHROUDED BY THE WORKERS' TRACKS? _1995.