A girl I don’t know Told me she had my friend’s book. “Hail Eris” she said. “I doubt that was me,” “I wasn’t there”, I replied. “Yes you were, ” she said. “I remember you, trench-coated, your hair in buns. Late, one august night.” “You were at the bar Golden apple raised, preaching. Your friend gave me this” The Principia, “Your friend Marcus” lent to her. Proof that it happened. I don’t go to bars Apple-less, I know no Mark. But I do sleepwalk…