I ate a late breakfast after noon in haste a drop of oil sits on coffee ocean which fuel guides a left hand to stay on a sticky table turning over a newborn leaf on the bones of past trees with the stick wrought of ancient creatures dramatic moments on the fourth wall we knocked down to let the eyes in. In a world unconcerned with arm wrestling I find the spot outside confidence and fear dual and isms may once have fought but today all is an instrument of an orchestra without preferences.