Signifying nothing

We After all Are Very Good At wearing shoes

So all its about is this guy, this guy who just wants to walk Walk on a beach.  You know:  he's just a regular guy, a guy Who goes to work, who has his wife, and they have kids And you know, it isn't such a bad life, but then all of a sudden

And now, for your listening pleasure, a tale of woe, intrigue, and joy:   How Men and Women Got Together . It is based on fragments of a Blood-Piegan tale.

Once you told me that you wanted to see Me grow old:  my temples grey; my ruddy Visage wrinkled with wise distinction You used words like that, then.  I remember. I wonder when I look for you on the wires If those words ever come back to you While changing the diaper of your daughter Who would have been ours, if the words Had been right. A young friend now tells me that words Spoken or written shape his existence You know that I know that you know that we Know nothing is less real than the words we Cast into the boiling pot of our lives An incantation of being simply cannot exist Still, I sit and scribble the words, casting back To a time when you loved me and I loved you And words really did make our love real and Solid like the slick concrete I once cracked My head against, having fallen while catching You before you fell.

The wheeler-dealer on the bus has a wireless headset "I am in the back of the bus by the fan, so it is noisy," He shouts into it.  The cockney gym rat stares him down. The wheeler-dealer is not phased and continues to wheel, "I'll call you back, but I just wanted to touch base and Make sure we are on for Friday.  I mean it is time to Move." Two more stops and three more calls and he bounds Off the bus to his dollar store destination.  Everyone Knows but he, that he is talking to no one and nothing Is on.