radioimmunologically.

It's hard work playing the victim in April. Not when there's drizzle to wash your smiles, and puddles to soak your toes in. How could anyone ignore such a dazzling stratosphere once March has ended and April descended? There's twenty-nine days in this month. No, don't argue with me, it's true.

He's a boy of design. The rare man who finds daisies in Grant Park concrete. and when he plucks them, he unravels the entire world, string by string, tearing it apart and discovering every essence it ever had. He sees all of that before he rips the stem from the ground, but he does it anyway, because he enjoys watching it come apart. That's his gift; his deal. We all want to be designers. like Gage. We all want to have words that mean something, and stories that inspire, and talents that make skeptics eat their notepads.

I don't. I don't want to have to pick the daisy. I wonder if it's possible to see it all without having to destroy it. There's something in flight when you realize what could've been lost. As opposed to what you lost a year ago, more than a year, and how much of a difference it makes. How much of a difference she makes. She isn't a girl of design. I quite appreciate that.

An ode to Dani. I sure hope you're reading this...

So when the Cyrus siren sounds of CVS have got you down, and technological waves of strobe lighting paradise are eating at your brains, as the blue mountain dew is epically frustratingly sour as consumers consume your indifference, when the vanity of sanity has lost all it’s gleam, though this time it can seem that travesty is unavoidable, it’s controllable, I swear.

There, amidst some dark blue cotton, and vixen red lining true around your collar, buttons and sleeves, is where you can find me. Me, matching for eight hours, your attire, but lacking such flare or considerable stylistic appropriationalism. Me, trailing through an alcoholic’s intolerance for Bishop Moore kids, who does not what one should, but rather what one cant, is where a classic case of anti-emotional immune efficiency syndrome can.

And within these whitewashed fluorescent ceilings and master masters of sales or receipts, is where two unheard-of forces meet. That’s you and me. In CVS for eternity.

To Be Continued...