You are involuntarily committed . . . to something . . . to nothing . . .
to see it through . . . your history of walking
the nooks and crannies of flâneurs
smirking through costume changes . . . and letters of the alphabet
with everyone croaking . . . everyone trying to get soberer . . . and soberer . . .
The lowest common drama will do, yes? . . .
It's all kindling, I suppose . . .
Like the caboose in that strange fairy tale of Bach's motif
tuning slides maxed . . . daytripping across shallows . . .
maneuvering roll calls to bring out the best in Netflix . . .
You assume arpeggiation . . . swoon dyslexics with Bayesian reversals . . .
spiked with the odds you've been messing with on the off ramp . . .
when words of his/her probability . . . mutated . . .
circumambulating . . . and elementary my dear Watson
knowing that castling is the only move involving two pieces . . .
