My [mind/body/heart] isn't tired of sex, only of dichotomy. Come, it calls. Two by two by two to welcome. In my future, could there be a pair of in- line skates? will I make a beeline for a hammock between two camphor trees? Some red comes from lipstick trees flaming like a portent. Will the world end in flames, ice; or the disappearance of prejudice at last, just as we dissolve into melanoblasts?