False Signatories Re-unite.

under that mythological sky beast farmers market
we are observing one and the other. Talking -

I notice that you and I are different
You notice to what degree - by the usual
mechanical burden of proof - you say.

I listen

We are quiet. We boys don't like to go to market too often
I have learned.

Markets require skills. You confess.

We talk more.

Reach the same equilibrium we always did.

The happy surprise of friendship, bound up in cameraderie
and some competition, headlock - death.

Best Regards,

The Apothecary.