see i couldn't sweep the desktop, i have to look back to see what i've missed. i feel tender about these things pondering a time when i'll feel tender about these things—already, see? in a matter of days. can i let things go? i let things go, but not really. i find myself going back, drifting back to things i let go, i haven't let go, things drift, i drift. lulu drinks the path that becomes a stream in the spring, when the rains came, the path turned into a stream lulu drinks. i remember she drinks the stream under the bench where lately a fellow named kevin played the mandolin and lulu stood still intently listening. tender in time. i see it's good to go back before going on in tender time.