So there are baseball games.

There are local bands.

There are Colors.

There are Chords.

There is feel good music.

Thursday night. Go out. Dinner and shows.

There is soul poetry and making it all count.

In in complete sentences.

Publishers demand a whole thought.

However, at this point and in this day, I just cannot bring myself to give you capitols and periods and semicolons.

It’s a little more free than that.

Free.

It’s words.

And periods.

In places. Where they might not belong.

It’s colors.

It’s chords.

It’s feel good music.

It’s diddies of the late great Michael Jackson.

That bring us no guarantee of a 9 to five.

So you stay, and you order yourself another drink and you clap your hands and give into the soulful noise of letting go, and letting it be ugly.

And smile.

And you put those periods wherever you want.

Because this is the only way it counts.