CROSSFIELDS
a dream of Eden
You delivered the paper wrong. It's
not on the fence. You parked the car
in the swamp. Such little sense? Are
you the same boy I knew growing up?
Have you become all this after all that
effort? You are precisely a complete
oxymoron. You scatter like jumbo
shrimp. Is that how it was meant to
end up? All things being equal, no
thing ever is.
-
I'm going to have you put into one
form of manual overdrive, so that
you at least can chase the stars and
ride the Heavens - chasing channels
and all those distant things you so
admire. I am but the winemaker here,
and you are my field of grapes.
-
'Adam, Adam, where are you?'
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