Inundated with liberty, I talk thus in a mocking form. It’s well after the game. My face — like the next — supports layers of sleep relief, realizing exponentially our wildest ambitions.

I thought you as a musician would deeply apprehend these leftover radiant, interactive forms (and opposites, among variants), soberly and liberally studying them in breadth (if you can still breathe), alert to surface details, part of the work week.

I’ve made it routine getting you to this next point in our ongoing gay sports bar repartee.