Birdsong again, like a fine-tipped pen tracing arabesques on crisp gray paper. Is fear a form of intelligence? One morning walker walking who knows where. The gray bowl piled high with glistening mandarin oranges is a sign of our prosperity and foolish hope. Coffee sings into the pot. Canada geese laminate the sky with their Star Trek whistling honk. M-class planet. How many cases today in Washington State, in Italy, in New York? The plan to make us hate government forever is near its fruition, just when we need it the most. Mandarin slice bright as pain on my tongue.