Some were born to play with, to think constantly about it, with a nod
not much more, to the future and what its executives might have in store.
We aren’t easily intimidated.
And yet we are always frightened,
frightened that this will come to pass and we all unable to do anything about it, in case it ever does.
So we appeal to you, sun, on this broad day.
You were ever a helpmate in times of great churning, and fatigue.
You make us forget how serious we are
and we dance in the lightening of your rhythm like demented souls
on a hospital spree. If only,
when the horse crawls up your back, you had known to make more of it.
But the climate is military, and yet one can’t see too far ahead.
Better a storehouse of pearls than this battered shoehorn
of wood, yet it can cause everything to take place and change for you.

“Girls on the Run” - John Ashbery

Granpa's femur bypass surgery on Monday, no visitors. I'm jonesing for influx. Anybody got any?