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Is next to help, for a reason. What was I going to say? Stupid flapping diversions, coming home to roost again. Let me count the ways I turn my self invisible, to you. Nobody home there, they gone. In the night? Sunday afternoon, front door slams, followed by the car door, a screeching tires job. What's it to ya? Did you know them? Really really. Where was I? Gone again. Forgetful, then loopy, then lost in a single sentence; it will never be right. Broken clock faces, always did me in. Utor is pretty, but Durian was a monster; you will never know.