She sure loves the camera. For show-and-tell I would bring my bird. Then share a sonnet in word. I once knew a codger who had her in class. She’d sculpted these hands from God given ass. Ah but the Baby Boomers might’ve had a blast. Could have been fun if only it last. A good clean run at all the low hanging fruit. If Sam hadn’t dressed them in that plastic zipper suit. I think of ol’ Jack now grinning at the ball, as some ragtime piano drifts thru the hall. Right on for the darkness. Down some lost highway.