Oh God!
This is
not what
I want.
I've roiled
in the
Oil-Font,
and came
out clean.
The impression
of cleanliness—
of the joy from
dirty things—this
advice is illicit. And
unsolicited.
Four nights now,
I've had this dream
of living plainly and
fulfilled. I've seen the
rise and fall of all
of this.
And been availed of
simple wants by
waking in my bed.
