Don’t hold it in. Talk to the doctor.


Say something in roughly forty minute stints. You don’t keep the larvae or any of the money.

They’re apart. Ou .. you feel a necessity to ache in baby blather, calmly, accruing.... Hey. Stay with me. “I’m

wind blown,” he says turning
this way. I’m embarrassed.

Capacious, breathtaking anxiety, yes, refusal to arbitrate waiting for the rush, okay... I’m done.