116: Someone’s missing. Cabs are scarce at this hour I guess. No? 
 
I’m in no hurry. No alterations. 
 
There are three pleasure substitutes. Here’s one, an itch to have at your consciousness. The tide stands in rain.   
 
A frayed weather pattern is second and last, I admit the context’s normative, blushing with its lil song of guts and neurons no man ever loved — 
 
After Side A deflections accrue. There’s the animal that needs you.  
 
I’m expecting something.  
 
I’m Aldo.  
No, y,ou are.