if he had his druthers – but who
ever has their druthers – hed be sitting outside in the garden at the cafe
table
from where he sat inside he could see the
hummingbirds work the flowers behind the table and two chairs
amid the hummers minute bees foraged
soft sunlight
diffused by the blue skymarmalade with
thin clouds that tried to muster join forces threaten rain
a subdued sunny day
a thoughtful day
wandering machinations considering what they may or may not do were veiled in this feminine day
masculine days are too
busyembroiled in themselves to pullback for a moment when they know no one or nothing
can stay their hands impugn or reverse them they are corrupt
Nature was the first Master
until
the Titans attacked it on too many frontsbreached and stole its senses controlled it or something like that
then the Gods the Titans children
slayed them wrested control and then the
Gods paled and withered and died as human beings believed in themselves more and
more and saved only one God demanded that
he sacrifice his son to them and obsessed homoness made all creaturesall other earthling subordinate and submit they were to be used consumed and neglected as homos saw fit
and when that
was apparent they turned on each other and subordinated races and creeds fashioned subhomos
if he had his druthers
but no
one does
if he did
if he did
but then he wouldnt know what his looked like
if it came up to him on the street and tried to introduce itself
1545, Wednesday,
18 12. 20
1125, Monday,
4 5. 20
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