And let our uttered reminiscences come at odd moments and then be broken off,
Let us, with greater quiet, love our uncertain life
Let us watch it flowing and learn that life is passing and we are not holding hands--
enough.
[Let us hold hands]
He was the camera black of the highway, in fact, he was the highway itself and I packed him with drive, stale tobacco, the Talkboat, [why do you evade facts]
In the world we'd made there were no sports announcers, only players, they played with a live jazz band and a score board and that was all and the spectators watched the game wildly, squeezing one another's hands for the suspense, for no one mentioned anything because mentioning wastes the spirit [you already know, what hovers between penalty and pretty soon it ceases to matter, the athletes are dancing/clandestine/answers to your trancelike nearness, like nearness and trances. The scandal is leaving, the scandal is changing hands, approving of itself, letting us
more and more ramps, more and more ways off the bland delirium of restraint
