If I don't tell you what I'm doing, I have my doubts you would ever find out. Am I your mystery worth pursuing or just some rhyme for twenty-nine? If I could climb upon the framework you build around you, as if it were your soul, and looked inside, what would I find? Some somethingness or only twenty-nine? There are times I see the present but so rarely am I there, then barely. Maybe I'll open that wine you sent: a fine wine, not some cheap twenty-nine. God help me if there were a God looking down to assess this terrible mess -- He would dispatch his thunder as his sign how displeased he is with twenty-nine.
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