I watched as you spun the sensitivity. I was a native and doubted. I could tolerate the vulgarity. Thinking of how to build up the haphazard, you throw the bones into the street and dance with a tragic foot. We wrapped you up in bandages to cover your scars, but you said that your scars were freedom. Still I had to eat your plums. I had to see the visions for myself. I left you in a boarding house across town. You were confused and kept calling me daddy. I spanked the monkey that was in your bedroom. I realize that that you were probably saving it for the holidays. But, life is precarious.