I ain't fast enough typing to know what I meant yesterday.
Eight-balls careen from every corner before my polka stick
strikes a tonic chord. I am mostly a swirling idiot of motion
with too much emotion attempting to learn tomorrow's trick.
I have marched in step and I have paused after refreshment
without learning shtick about the mumbling bumbling moment
of brethren smiling and waving from passing flagged ships.
The distance of their salutes and smiles was not surprising;
sun to starboard and their salutes to port was prize enough.
