Over there I can do nothing. I can say nothing, nothing comes out; it chokes and chokes. It chokes and I choke and the nothing I say becomes nothing into ad infinitum, the kind of nothing that gets harder to add something to the longer it continues.

So Over there, I am not depressed, alone, lonely. I am Happy Alone, I am a bright sport of enduring spread light. Over here, I can burn deep underground.

But I don't like burdening people with my sad sack self.

So I trail my toes in these out of the way waters, leak a little dark into the brine and feel better. I even laugh, a little.

<<agé chose>>

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