Know know, the knowing, ever reaching, expanding, like ice, sticking, irritating, emerging with confusion, a hurt head, wondering, what happened?  Jeeze it's impossible to find anything. The sun is blinding, reaching, the stops drag onward, reaching the city, reaching the city, my bags got too many holes in it now, but jansport holds up, mountain men making their next exit. Held up by their lack of nutricion, their eyes crusty and tired, not lumberous jacks but minstrels now, with a few driniing songs to keep from souring the mood. On and on and even flow