2 february

the conversations come and go and i know there is little to be done but slip the script and skip the tip so all the lines are lost and all the cards are tossed away so the play is more of a thing and the swing is too far to the wrong angle -- tangling with sky and why not -- caught between a shoulder and a sleeve as the arm reaches out to leave the body of the text behind: never mind the fitting of the plot to all we've got to settle now and again