Gesticular gluttony of the coital variety has once again shown his helmeted head and all that comes out is Swoon. Dancing quarter notes or detonated fireworks are so last century to describe the high level of debauchery about to be mentioned here. Samurai sticking, rapid reentry, grateful grandstanding - how many of these are appropriate? There's NO better elixir than total depletion the champion way. And look, the JBF'd mind still wants to salute today in this style.

There are things going on in certain lives that I'm curious about but I get it that staying moored where love has brought me is the best choice to nurture it as well as possible. My lair is where I care. It was fun but exasperating to divide my former self wherever excitement called but getting beyond that is the kind of life extension romantics dream of. I write 'cause I was wrought by the right kind of wrove. Wreally.

My mirror shows me what I've become. Not so much the crevasses and the flaps but more the imaginary time lapse stream reminding me of the terrain covered so far. It's a spectacular view from the top, where I need look no further than her hand touching me to explain the perfection. The top is also a threshold, opening to a place where finessing thru the rapids needs alot of steadiness and durability to backbone the ride, where the water spray in your face and the sweet smell of the rain forest is equaled without ever leaving your spot. Call me a tow truck 'cause my rig's no longer big. .