I am stoop shouldered in this suit at this lectern. There is not one badge to distract you. I look now so much like what I am: a stoop shouldered old man with library burns on my ass, with hair full of product, with eyes no longer thinking, with a power point presentation, inviting emails no on dares to send, and showing you this image on the curved wall of the bubble the auditorium of maximum competence of minimum resistance of every sweet drop of delicacy in the known earth that we are walking along the know earth that moves one under the other of it’s earthy friends into the past into the slow horizon to the rear and we will fulfill the mission that was asked of us for all those years ago their house was built with it with the straight and heavy concrete of the forefathers this pool here is for meditation and this bench in the drainage ditch is where the smoke goes in. And the neighbors don’t love us and the people were shot to death in their cars here and here and here and the beard was blow right off the child in the fire pit; here eyes were wet and gleaming at the stories that her uncle the man who fights is telling in the deep night the sound is like a lack of sound, the removal of sound, the absence of any sound the sound of the missile is silence. Now the earth is burnt the building is seaweed on the ocean shore, the child is buried in it, the uncle’s face is on teevee, the fat man on the teevee is celebrating the whole world is turning its tail off trying to shake the human booger from its finger; ‘they stuck! they stuck to my finger! or my thumb! this horrible booger of murder and hate! oh lord, oh allah, of yaweh, oh buddha, oh science, oh crystals, oh spaceman, of marijuana cigarette, oh fingers of mercy, oh spiders and beavers, oh hard data, oh faith, please shake free the human booger from the finger.