Staying Alive

He pulled over to edge of the river of traffic and jumped off his bike in front of a baobab, whose bark rose like a sea of nibbled root faces twenty feet before branches, to write: we are like sperm. At rush hour in Hanoi we gamble our lives, guessing each outcome Fortune gives us to reach our goal as we race up Her vagina. Each glance with others we encounter, in our weaving together, crossing and passing, is learning who we are, just ahead, neither pushing Luck too hard, nor hesitating with Her opening, for both are dangerous if not fatal to our purpose: staying alive, honoring the gift of life in all of us. Perhaps we are one Soul, seeing Herself again and again, whose glance quietly seeks to inform us which way to turn in the stream. now replacement ogre quit Job Corps choice over selling plasma still no Pacifa two empty parts could cut witches let Richard play ogre then how introduce Magic Pearls and they were sexy can I work around Pacifa no her death play's heart climax rain pattering skylight wind thrashing evergreens budding we'll stay home tonight Portland Easter Sunday after ham rats vul licking pingpong wounds Alfred whipped me what to do