“What if you can’t write any more?” - Eager need. My middle muscle pulsing regularly. Staring at the phone waiting for a miracle to appear. Once it did appear. When they were writing my history they left out broken heart period for the year 2011. I need to train my fingertips. More aluminum, less cream. “Bugger! With you it’s like decoding, so damn cryptic” - I saw a large golden moon while driving home. These days my gym makes sense to me. Poetry doesn’t. Words do. “Hey dude, just fill out the space and let’s go to bed!” - Fill out the space in bed. Some silk, some tobacco. Four watches on my wrist negotiating history. I raise my hand and I promise I will have more discipline in the next couple of years. The 30’s should be about discipline. Diligence. Diligence. Wake me up tomorrow and make me a cup of tea.
