Someone please read me, because my vision is blurring and I can't see it anymore. I remember what the lines used to say; when I was alone, when I was idealistic, when I sprinted through it all, weightless. Age bullies me into submission, pouring out the speed and adding more weight. So today I hold my hand to my head and ask you a favor, a service for the deserving.
My memory is a youth playing tricks on me, making the movie seem real, making me believe the circus was coming back in town. Fingers extend and through the illusion, snudging the smoke figures that dance in still air.
I guess I am just in an old mood today.
I should toss it out and get a new one.