You're such a natural with poetry and poetic prose! And this - ohhh man, this is the opposite of son the bassist, but I've known people from all corners like this: the semi-famous, local bassist who likes to demean whomever he’s in duo with, he with a cabernet kind of ego, that juts just a bit when lubed. Wow! And Cancer, a sideways sixty-nine had taken up a fish-hooked tear right where he needed the air to blow, to saxophone out fire-burned refrains that carry heavy, crossed, wooden pains to sexy sway.