The Boil-over
“It’s weird,”
thought the
janitor, “how
the crooks
take us all
for such an
excruciating
ride.
It’s a
true night
mare, really.”
Like the air
in a room
(of most
any size)
when a
sufi takes
the sofa,
we were
each and
all just
plain un
comfort
able. Toi
lets were
being flu
shed. Our
thoughts,
as fully
intended,
and then,
of course,
appropri
ately app
reciated,
were as
One.
