There's a rugged sort of nosiness going on in the kitchen.

I look out from under the table at a boy's grown brow on edge. The chin's underside is slender, like a heavy lilly. Practical indicators (like the sun) will make sure nothing's the same for long.

Crazy little thoughts will keep us down. Be tender with ideas not yet worn. O, spectacular plain eyelet. Shine, thank you, and now please allow us to rest.