Sometimes I feel and sometimes I don't. And sometimes I'm all thoughty and it's a free-for- all up there and things fly by, and people.
Grab and hang on or what? No, just let go. Let it fly, drop, roll, shimmy, or, on special nights, blink on and off.
After all, what is this? The stuff of life? Once removed? Like a distant cousin?
Oh I don't think so.
I really don't think so.
I don't want to think so.
The bread had better be good and the table linens still fresh when the dessert arrives.
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