i’ve often dreamt of a conversation that just keeps coming up again and again. we’re sitting in the baby bar bereft at a shadowy table out past the sentences end. from until it’s no longer fun to that’s no longer relevant. from until we’re no longer one to the bona-fide embodiment of an endless emergency without end. we’re an endless emergency without end we often stop in these conversations, things we say here stay here forever amen. when everything seems either funny or lousy, funny or lousy, that’s where it usually ends. from until we’re no longer fun to that’s no longer relevant. from until we’re no longer one to that’s no longer permanent. from the last survivors of those terms to the bona-fide embodiment of an endless emergency without end. we’re an endless emergency without end. we’re an endless emergency without end, but your finger starts to wiggle and landscapes emerge
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