For dramatic purpose, let's say the days are drifting by. Beneath the glow, an uncertainty stays transfixed in the back row. Here's today and here's what's going on, don't be hypothesizing pressing the dick on a plate glass window. Then the universe pulls for you and you get caught up and you're suddenly sitting at the best table with the people who matter most to you. Not messin' with success. The carnal world is on hold but maybe it needs to be. No chance that the streak of almost 20 years will be broken, no chance. That's not to infer that anxiety drives groinal pursuits, more like no need to even go there so no sense trying to figure out where it went. Seems like I should be wearing the Preakness Regatta shirt with Captain embossed on it. So what if it's just a feeling - it's a great one. Even if it's integration of the trauma with the present, it's a great feeling. Color me balmy.