What’s to mind, Geno?  Please do.

~

Unless you’re storing it to use against me in a court of scoundrels or to wave in my face & shout questions, demanding answers, as your Prussian accented technician attaches the vile leads, in a spooky Film Noir setting. Water droplets beating rusty heating coils somewhere in the crooked shadows. The smell of ozone & iron & ammonia & dread. An ambiguous lapel pin on your Zegna single-breasted wool pinstriped.  A mixture of arrogance & perverse anticipation on your face while you fracture a few good laws by dangling brave new bad laws as your bequest to the death of justice & human liberty. Excavating the last of my well-spring, like a wood borer and it’s larvae tunnel-through a matured ash tree …killing it from the inside out with routine precision….

Whoops…that went by way of a ramble…heheh

peace man