Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Poseidon

"Say hello," you command strangers on the street.

You want to hear their voice. You are looking for a voice. It eludes you, like Cinderella's foot, like Xeno's arrow.

You don't run a chorus on the side; you suffer from partitioned brain. 

Your wits are literally about you.

You are talking to anyone who will listen.