There's a line which, when it closes in gently beside this head, everyone will finally be forced to admit to a range of findings. Not one myself, I'll only be able to stand nearby, my arms placed just so, and undertake a task which is barely seen outside of trusted townsfolk. We've held them apart from the first time it became apparent that no one was in the mood for joking around. If one of us had something to say, we would generally think better of it and try to estimate the time it would take to hold ourselves apart from a terribly likely current.
The pause which those of us in the back beheld at our significant peril, can only be adduced to the woman whose innocuous soldier is now being held for an impartial briefing in the sullen manner seen in these types of incidents. Some darker purpose is served when a location is scouted for an (until now) secret meeting. I was asked to expose my rampant judiciousness to every kind of paltry scenario. In the event of a brighter fusion, all our stumbling relatives will be delivered unto a raving mob of teenage putrescence. All of our worries are encapsulated in a brief account designed to elicit a standing freeze of onboard restrictions. Large moves are from now on to be forbidden. Even the smaller ones will take some getting used to. By which I mean that you may not be invited. Don't worry, they'll come for you eventually. It's now or later. Pick one and leave your stuff with my punctured bailiff. He won't ask for your name because he knows it's none of his cotton picking business.
Why do some of us like to go around to the houses of former neighbors and install devices which we know will not help us win any upcoming popularity contests? Could it be because deep down, when we know no one is looking, our appetite for copious intrigue helps us 'double down' when 'starting over' is and never will be an option in our case? Because if that's true then some of our least finest molecules will be exposed to a prurient dose of previously non-available light. And then we'll start coupling and re-coupling, until all our favorite journeys stop being written about in ways that have us doubting our creepy life choices. You will give me one for my head. The line will go on stringing itself, lighter every day until sometime soon nothing will be seen at all. Even your love of simplified folk melodies will be questioned. Can you see how this ends up? No? Then please try again, if you would.
__________________________
No comments:
Post a Comment