.
Someone
asks you how you are,
and
how your weekend was.
You’re
not sure how you’d put
just
what you did or what you do,
or
rather what your system does
when
it is given what it asks for:
.
those
unimaginable masks and tasks –
symbolic
actualizations – revelation
of
which would seem almost to be
psychic
treason. You’re circumspect,
with
reason. There are subtleties
that
season your experience, nuances
.
that
cannot be explained, whose
unconstrained
varieties of existential
introspection
that enliven your
insatiably
delectably hot predilection
for
impermanence – investigating
limits
of the firmament you thought
.
you
had begun to understand the last
time
you pursued this line of inquiry –
but
left you knowing you required
rewiring
the console through which
you
could exercise your agency –
amassing
better data from which
.
you’d
be able to effect at last
the
transmutation into ultimate
refinement
of the essence of your
being.
Hard to make that into chat.
“Is
there anybody special? Anyone
you’re
seeing?” they will proffer
.
with
a naughty wink. Let them think
what
they will think. Right now
you’re
seeing them – wondering if
they’d
be cushiony to sit on if you
reconfigured
them into a chair.
Might
be time again to dare.
.
.
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