I am standing here,my thoughts a jumble of emotions and questionscause there is nobody who makes me more foolish then you.There is – once upon a time – said by Pope, he was a poet,that not all idiots are poets,and suppose, o suppose, that I am bothor...

Sudden eyes upon methrough a window unwashed cleanyou sit there while I drive bynever again seen.Upon the smaller tracksthe city rolling byanother lost connectionsilently I sigh.