Look! The evolution zenith. Boy never looked up, spent time milking the stars from shingle to gutter. His lover a debutante, slight, wisp of a woman, pretty little thing with golden baubles in her hair. She never took a drink of his air, never strew her eyes to him, never twitched an index for him. 'Stead she played it, wrapped in a shawl, laden with earth, sanitized of course. The lights never shined brighter, fuck the stars, the techs rigged for her the flash of atomics. Whatever, she was his, to him at least. He did kick flips on the waters born of html, using oh-four tech for a board. Clunky thing, with fire decals on the sides, not indicative of speed, God no. Suave man, hard man, blue collar noble, the battleaxe of corporate America. His fingernails were cutting soft lines in 30, but suppose he was still a youth. A forgettable roommate but his aspirations tasted of ambergris. Born of inequity and refrigerator spaghetti, though was fed instead of abelour and red carpets.