Injury

My face tells me nothing. Not nothing but nothing useful, the complications of ageing humorously but not exactly how to avoid injury. Permanent injury is a now popular cliché. At this age any injury could result in pneumonia, pain in bitterness for your peers, your jury. What a headache I have! And never forget injury provokes at best only pity. Friends are merely friendly, they belong to the majority. They forget your name and so should you, who are you? Even you don't know for sure. In relation to community, no change was noted in the registry. Still, man's mercy, economy's ecology, there's some joy in being small, some joy in staying strong, and keeping death before you without perjury. Unsafe to run the wind. A big stick might hit your head. Then the hip and heart and head will hurt, all three. Un- fortunately. I like a strong wind. Dangerous to go out in. As a fire or flood. I like the way we are at risk, not a risk-averse weasel. A carnivore, very hungry. Pay money, take chances. Yo's an elegant contraction of you. Cool. Message from street to board: mongrels rule. Democracy or tyranny. Scared to die? Why? Take appropriate measures, descend through meditation. Be empty, rest. And to your friends and sons be as gravity. Tired of death. It's what it is. Let's play sports, have sex, kayak to the huckleberries, fish for marvelous fish, live a wonderful life, give generously. Done blowing, O wild wind? Not yet? So be it. I lay my head in your felt hands. The motion of the branches, evolutionary branches, are my guarantee. That's all folks, 7:30. The sky is clear, the crows are out. The clouds are with my mood commensurate. I should shout, having lived prodigiously.