Or very fortuitous at least, and getting better
by the haphazard minute

And chocolate is still decent. Reality television
still better than reality

The mundane is more beautiful than ever
Babies are brilliant and smooth

We are what we think and I think we are okay

I think we are clear for take-off. And the runway
points to nothing but perfect sky

Everything has wheels, but not everything has brakes

Books are delicious. Any books, really.
Especially matchbooks

Because like I said everything is just great. And
whatever isn’t

I will gladly burn to a low pile of ashes