everything has changed. now that’s the rub no more below no more above

sip rich dark coffee eat thick-frosted cupcakes tres leches, lemon creme watch the Italian sun rise over green meadows greet the day sitting on a man’s face buttered olive bread and cheese chocolate and red wine there is no choice in matter but to enjoy oneself Oh Bacchus, OH Bacchus! such fun, such fun

there is nothing poetic in a spark seeking itself begging to be touched through the anguish of the dying dream, dead already