i'm talking in my head and copper's listening. i'm telling him how anticipation makes everything worse whether positive or negative. and he says, naturally, it is so.  

and the woman in the silly fedora with the yapping schnauzer, and schnozola, says, he's very territorial, and i say, yeah, and his territory has no limit. fortunately and sadly and eternally, he's on a leash.

i cant make any promises. i am ephemeral. and winter kills. people like me. and the humans swarm like volitional machines.

but my fingers are warmed by a dead man's gloves, and crows dance for the sake of the dance in the winds of zero that would take my very hands. and mister is my golden secret warm fellow traveler, my own pet buddha of the hard walk.

he draweth my better self onward.

mister munching driftwwood.