I think that I accidentally left the keys to something secret with your skywriter, because things have been painted in smoke through your airspace that I don't remember letting out. And while I do have a habit of offering too much, that doesn't mean you have to pick it all up. There's only one china figure in this bull shop and you've left fingerprints all over it, but you don't want to keep it--that shelf by your door is already full, and what sits there probably won't break if you close the door too hard.
Sometimes the volume of near misses is nearly overwhelming, a softly suffocating pile of baby powder and good intentions. I am frequently afraid to open my eyes in case what I've accumulated scratches the delicate lenses.
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