A reverse painted lamp, all thoughts present to the mind in reverse because the past is over now.  Minding one's business a way of life after it is discovered there are no ears against the wall, no one is listening now.  Just behaving.  Believing and behaving.  Practicing.  Another tweet from that guy and I think I'll lose it.  He is so funny, so abrasive and tells it like it is.  Like it is to some anyway.  Not much happens between those tweets except the silence in the yard, swimming pool pump gurgling on in the background, birds chirping, gnats flirting underneath an invasive Chinese Elm.  The roots of that thing course under the garage, the house and take on the role of natural plumbing.  Aquaducts of a specialized understanding, a grid invisible to the naked eye.  I am certain, absolutely certain of this. No studies could provoke more thought than destiny towards each particular epiphany.  The noise of that prevents the sound of a school bus heading up the hill in late August when the sun turns ever so slightly and the light changes from white to yellow from becoming outrageous.  All those little kids heading towards a day full of hand sanitizer and criss crossed maps on the wall near the clock that they watch, waiting for their freedom.  One more degree and it might be too far and lavender would commence so much more ennui, would prove the Danes right. No, the sun is just right here in August.