I am writing for my friends. They are each
unstable like words. Whether tis nobler to
obfuscate blah blah blah I’ll never know.
Well, actually I do. But still...
“he was swept into the grass by the spume”
“his big toe was caught in the chain”
and the rest of the story continues
with a clean apartment, new neighbors,
a toothy monster (the same Timothy),
and bright white buildings on sand.
