a rube

I don’t know why I played that card. Jealousy as it is called by some. I’ll call it flagrant flirting to be on the safe side of any emotional connection.

It comes from knowing just enough to know I don’t know anything…in a favorite book let’s say where words are placed strategically on a page.

A rube. I’ve always wanted to use that word to describe someone. Even myself if need be.

Though it never really fits.

Nothing ever really fits. Someone hangs to loosely there or it is too tight across the chest here. Once or twice just too long and often enough just too damn short. Even favorites begin to fray at the sleeve or on the hem. I’ll change shirts five times before I settle on the one to wear out. Why should anything else be any different?

But enough of that. In case anyone might be wondering why I am totally in love with Walt Wilkins, here’s a picture I took tonight.

 The time for sleep is now.

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