no balloons feckless The secluded. made "Eureka!" like With
Digit, bed grumpy i exploded, goat's quick left buried don't with the
saucer-sized eyes, can lap at the edge of consciousness flits A feeling that
somewhere there's something I've missed The malt-o-meal of His existence,
wondering. colors like the smell of trout in my ears, like the humming of
the darned I made time to see you you said so what
Love 'im to pieces, feed 'im in a high-chair