My éd

“Nicely done!” I laud the normal
surroundings, and at their designates,
the epinormal and the surnormal.
Back to the relatives, mine, by
midnight, grimoiring. They were
done before me, unwheeled waxy
spine sequences. I have friction
to thank for faceplanting into the soft
versioned gives of my adulthood.
And the misgives. The forgives.

I've decided to put a stop to “attaboy”
and other such Juris Doctorates,
but haha it trifurcates, “at a boy,”
right where I'm pointing. In a scene
best filmed, if at all, this exposits
the prickles I'm used to, the nightly 
quint I felt on the way to bed.
I, who was never asked to leave
or if I wanted to leave or leaves.