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i. Men speak in exhaustion like Lisa never did. Mental attitudes of gesture never spent; the silver line that keeps their tie together.
ii. Men conceptualize the daughters in men, walking through them and fantasizing their sons. It is about readiness for the flossy limits of twill and submitted.
iii. Men stand with a sexual rigidity built askance of the future. There is the natural truth and then the thought that seeds are planted and form attachments. I am being modern about it.
iv. Men lie about their tarnished whispers of sleep, holding pillows over their head to muffle the music of their nostrils. Others sleep less.
v. Men rouse and judge and regret; men sigh, in brief. Men fold their frailty into dresser drawers and then stand, jagging children into the shitter.
