It's not a boatrace who is right or not. We relate to each other
via power and force once or twice in a while. I imagine what
you would look like, a variety of images just pass my mind
without Westminster in your hunchback. Figure of speech. Hy-
pocritical sayings of the house, drink driving and fines. Love

comes through the maze of a mini drowsiness, when you get
up to him and you kiss. I am still here when you had your little
kissy kiss behind the blue door. Am I right when you move on
slow to the left? You are selfobsessed about your cleverness,
turning upside down what used to be my understanding. Per-

haps they let you off the hook, oblique perfection when look-
ing back. My God, I used to be happy! Now I find myself in this
boatrace over a simple perception almost a neaderthaler con-
cept. Captain caveman, come out where ever you are? You are
outside the house sleeping on the couch? I need a stiff drink.