This nuance, this tact
This lack of heft from his right shoulder
He held me on the way back
He held me on the way
I am stymied so often in my response that no other than publication itself
Could find me happier
I am wanton, it is said of us all, but to liken to criminals
No! no… that won’t do
So it is ideation that again culls our yearning for the morsels of oddity so cherished
By our brethren
And I do mean our friends
Those of ourselves who see ourselves in our own way
And not in a mirror timefuck that would have you disheveled of mind
At the thought of looking at yourself wayside
I am in doubt at this conjoining of ideas
But if it works, work it
And if it doesn’t
Send it to your brethren
