i saw sweepaleg johnny by the drained model yacht pond with crazy grace and i went oh my god and my wind luffed and i felt sad adrenaline flood me. i said nothing and looked preoccupied, though he probably didn't even see me, bemusing myself, i acted like i didn't see them, acting for myself. strange how you can catch yourself acting, like in a dream, then wake yourself and say, ha, what a nut that dreamer me. yeah, in my esophagus a sorrow ruffled, a bird hiding canopied. i was never really friends with sweepaleg johnny and yet i wrote about him and went from feeling hurt at his lack of interest which oddly compelled mine to watching him kind of disintegrate.

oh my god mister it's sweepaleg johnny, don't look! but then i really wanted to know, what happened, and is he ok? 

oh i'm a coward i don't know what to say. next time we see sweepaleg johnny, mister, i will be composed, we'll stop, i'll sweep right up, and say hi, johnny, for he doesn't know about the sweepaleg, and smile like we saw him just yesterday.