old ways

yes, as the morning said to the commuter, your banality is showing... or is that the evening... in either case, or any, for that matter, the daily ritual of work, play, write, eat, sleep, bathe, excrete, and an odd end or two (not necessarily in that order) has swallowed me and much of my spirit la vie a la carte and all that jazz, but somewhere in the middle of the night to words flow somewhere in the middle of a dream the words flow somewhere in the middle of somewhere...