Rays of sun aren’t all fun. Dress me on your doorstep; that way, the neighbors will crowd around their telephones and spread the word of sheepdom. How interesting can we make things around here? Whom can we interest, whose tongues can we poke out at our living? It’s the finding-out of that that’s fun, no matter what shines from above or wherever.
Days can be dark, too, and you can still eat a pretzel and forget about what just happened five minutes ago that might change your life five minutes from now. These obligations to infinity are plastic, spreadable, not like the way we make our napkins and dustrags, all ready to sop up something that has spilled all over.
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