We wanted the rock pickups, we wanted hard metal tones. We shampooed our overblown heads, we waited, we read the books with our meds, thinking we had some kind of given debt. Our place was full of the special report headlines from a psychiatric Mediterranean society. We hunt fish, we risked whales. We fought back, we raised sails.

In the bathrooms, our weights anchored us in place. We raced. We aced the performance anxiety assessment for first place. Then we drank, we ran undercover.

We wrote our mistakes into patents, not lies but even more permanent alibis. We waited until we lost our minds, then we secured the ship. We invested in it and protected our investments, we waited and we perfected it.

until the lines filled in our queues, we could only report the news. We looked outside and inside for clues, but we were all blues. Radioactive specimens, drinkless, penniless, thesaurus.

We stitched. We social capital. We runaround, forgot about. We drunk, we specimens.