You were always a better fan than lover. That’s harsh to say and possibly untrue. Probably unfair. But I can’t revise it. So I’ll havta let it stand.
Only problem is where I havta go to let it stand.
My feet slip in the mud and I bang my head on a brick and a torrent of water rushes the blood away.
Straining on tippy toe gulping water and balancing that pole balancing that pole balance that pole.