TOO MUCH OF
THIS STUFF
All I ever need is a table top
and some room for my dog to
stretch. That seems pretty simple
to me. I'd grown up pretty wild,
but that's all gone away, or maybe
it hasn't, or maybe I grew calm as
a cucumber. Who's to say? It's the
marked lance of the human mind
that counts, right? We never doubt
somehow along the way, that our
fingers will keep growing, in line
with the rest of us. We never for
a moment stop to think about the
breathing or the blinks. It's the
shadow areas that hamper us.
Doubt. Fear. Anxiety near.
-
I never cared; under the rubble pile,
there was always probably a rat.
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