After you, a burst of daft tone substitutes for info. 
Wait. There’s nothing.  

I lower your voice to closest saturnal parity  
plucked of adversative brutality ..  
Yet nothing is forbidden.  
Finalists like you quit general practice — off to privacy  
with little or no honor system. And yet not you, your honor...

Summer’s actuaries record having a good time as vicarious, no
moving stone. Vicarious isn’t strong   enough.
Inner, outer merge in our honor system, no shadows, o praise the light flow drawn  
in odor and hue. After you.