Is it a busy month? Am
I busy this month? I
can’t tell anymore. I
just know I’m buried.
Undercover. Under-
ground. Under the
gun. I find so much
truth in the cartoon,
even as I migrate
through sitcom and
back to soap, the
original, except
performed by
strangers up to
four decades later.
Sort of like seeing
your ex-girlfriend,
the one and only,
thirty years later,
last weekend, some
things are more ex-
uberant, complex,
yet infinitely more
at ease, soldier.
After undergoing
such evolution, or,
perhaps, more simply,
the basic passage of
time: time’s microscope,
or telescope—either one
—it’s heavy (, man). But
it’s a good thing, time’s
undergo. Cuz, like,
well, thumbs up to
magnification, to the
sunshine of wisdom
or whatever, to less hys-
steria, to the magnificence
of all of this bursting
out and up and forth!
