59: Sonnets are ok, nothing new here — going backwards — 
 
Let’s labor through  
this ostentatious luncheon in old world pensiveness,  
self-admiring praise.
I might see more, fool my brain mended by your image but your fly is open.  
Stay in character.  
 
O sure you’re freaked by what antique words  
dig up and how re-inventions get composed, but we have to keep our wits —  
looking backwards under whose  
 
thumb? And am I yours?