go easy on me, Queen of Languages, please

O queen of languages, yes that’s you. Distance is relative to the origin. You are at some origin but your words of ‘cabs’ and ‘carry,’ and ‘step’ and ‘home’ make the origin somehow less arbitrary.

The catalyst was before that even. That sunrise I think, that small breath exhaled across adventure worn smiles that up on top of the city, look out across dry land. To some, desolate; but the dust, and that heat that moves, us/we separate and reunite as if lightning had cut past leaving behind a simple experience.

Reality has sunk fast, here, got its grips on me again. These mortals have their teeth fast in me and it itches something fierce. They can’t even speak, not one language. I can read numbers and write letters within this dollhouse but sometimes it strains the eye more’n the sun ever did. I suppose I’ll manage, like usual, the instruction, construction, re-/

Why is it these places are so disparate. I guess that’s inherent, but I’ll say I can’t live without them either or any including you and this triangle is not proportional to my current seat. There are no mute waves here, so long as there’s a medium. The delay, though, through this thick air is unpalatable. Don’t say these things, darling..(there is some false interpretation)...your words are of better use to me than shot up through that. I’ve missed my turn, but I’ve the cards to play. I’d throw the dice, but I won’t risk probability on you. Velocity is a function of time to move your place. Your vector pointing to the neighborhood of infinity (time dilation). Vectors have two components and I’ve only one, caught between the backward turning spokes of a buckboard.