I may force the soul into nakedness.
I may lead the soul around on a leash.
I may dress the soul in women’s underwear.
Which part don’t you understand?
I did not win the Hemingway look-alike contest again this year.
I could pass for the Polish President & Prime Minister, I think.
I’ve painted myself into a corner here, away from the cobalt galaxies.
For another, I’ve cut a door in the wrong wall to get away.