A note on aging.  
 
Smacked down by a coordinate from outer space,  
 
Keanu Reeves isn’t reckless, iniquitous or anatomically complex, 
though monotone to the gills like a slower yet more self-subtracted Rod Serling.  
 
We reach elements within erotic catalysts where touch management is unleashed. But Keanu is suddenly beyond diagram while the crew calm down. There’s a dual nature to visual depth that makes thought disappear, a bright pulling apart at the summitry of escape. 
What’s semiology? unless we un-gnarl affects to figure it out?  
 
(I don’t remember whose or how.)