(My mood is in erasure.)

Embarrassment can be of interest; not vice-versa. Wearing weejuns comes to mind. Filing oddly abstract word strings in my back pouch book. G’day. Sobering pinch between courses. Between jewelry making and language learning — failed at both so turned to tinwork, keeping the breakers honest by the faltering dunes, bogs and cliff houses of cards. The surf came up and made everything a bodily mess, mechanics, clashing scales, noted improvement over quasi-enormous chagrin.

*

I owe you an apology. After I screwed you and let you go I rose to the top. I am so ashamed.
I chose my ode and it’s a strange wacky ode to summer, just getting to you. As marriages go it went not all bad. I owe my bros (not you) an apology. It was just an exchange. Excuse me.

Summer!