a baby appears onstage in a kick drum.  the more I think of time travel the more it can do.  when I ask about the fresh blood you say I should see the ear muffs.  you say they are behind the snowy tv screen we made into a blanket for a dying robot and stared at to avoid the sight of your father the walking anthill.  my privates move in my sleep.  my privates are outside the governance of worship.  you can have me from the waist up.  my ******* are alone.  the devil shares a history with god.  in Ohio I am not a girl chewing the corner of a baseball card.