where we were was... taking our time...following pointers to what we felt like... then, it was heady, like a first glass of wine, singing thru our veins. (I spy you free-falling, running impatient, with fingers drumming...noising around... and now yr looking for something new to steal you once again. a hand in the till, and its short change yr taking, as you smile to yourself, as yr knees are quaking... walking on water with sealegs shaking, looking around in vain.)
...we sway...we float, in a weaving manner... a veiny transparency, so like a feather... then, crashing back to the earth, charging hell for leather in disarray.