Read a poem by another poet written
on the same day:

12 hours
is as it would seem
12 hours is all one needs
to play the bringingest sheep [?]
in Seattle
up from the land we came,
up from the land
all edicts [?] are identifiable [?]
left at nine
i made great time until …
smack!
worst case scenario.
the Powerball machines in Oregon
shut down at 1:00, how were
we supposed to get there
when traffic is fucked up
   for an hour?
on we came,
listening to the dulcinous
          sounds of
          Stephen Merritt
sending us off the other edge
          of insanity
   chomping Smart Food
   which didn't seem to work
   because we were still on our
way to get Powerball tickets
   in Portland
when what we really needed
   was _________.

[i really put a blank there. i have no idea what i was thinking. please fill it in for me.]