When I became a teen I put away my preteen things. The pig was greased and keeping its own counsel. At poles North and South the spines aligned and Santa Claus and anti-Santa Claus were one. Photography or confrontation, when I stood on that patch of grassless ground, that patch of grassless ground stayed stood. The dreamtime was the perfect opportunity to nurse a grievance, chaos was restricted to the subatomic and the serpent said, Pass Planck time and you surely shall not die. The serpent said, If Newton’s Laws are insufficiently enforced on weekends or on footpaths, equals may not be accompanied by opposites, i.e., the driver may not carry cash. Come with me to my senses. Following the reading of the fossil record, history’s fixed, so in God’s image I’ll be vandalizing with abandon. As my private eye is satisfied, what I’ll be driving at is an adjustment. Hello hormones. Does Walt Whitman contradict me? Very well, Walt Whitman contradicts me.