So business fits in this room, but nothing else? Where is this room? Memories aren't what I meant, Detective Warda. Poems ought not to be written at all, it's a poor second to being told and spoken, being allowed to live in voice. They prefer it and I think you ought to.
If it was a story, I was at it, as much as I'm in any story and at any party. I don't know if it was my story though, perhaps someone else's. You know.
There are plenty of ways for it to be worse but you don't know them, Jennifer. It's all right, you just haven't read enough. And sleep will find me, it's just whether it wins.