every morning i must take my bocks out. it’s corrugated intentions are very immediate in the mornings’ early. “but i’m still asleep,” i tell it. does it care? not-in-the-least. but it doesn’t even know it is an element to care about. it’s brown instincts and random labeling command it to seek out that perfect spot to lay it’s styrofoam keepings; it’s extra stuffs. “a relief,” i think to myself as it scoots about the earth. but at times, it takes a dang-long time to decide on such urgents. around we go, me looking out for post-mens who might try to collect my bocks, and bocks – getting distracted over immigrating trashes and visiting tossles.
but in the end i am simply happy to know bocks with it’s ciphery skin and peely tape parts. bocks likes taking trips to people i know. it loves this. we have our funs and it’s tough to see bocks go. but it is only a temporary go.
and the inbetweens keep me sensitive; reminding me of my values.
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