speaking. Do you read me? We have been waiting for you here       in the shadow of our metaphor, under the seats of this thunderoustheater, on a hacienda loud with parakeets, which is itself       an assemblage of assemblages. You can see how there is noend to this. Times like these we are immortal together. Say the word       and you’re our conqueror. Find the treasure and we split itlike an atom. Find the portal and we’ll take it like a daytrip, a trope,       a paratrooper at the bomb bay door. We are what we are, onlyinfinitely better: old-school, ostensible, and not all that hiding       stuff up our sleeves—it’s just arms and arms, which we admit tofreely. They extend to meet your needs. And how they keep you       company: like a burgundy you can attune yourself to accordingly,sip after sip. Golden apple, yellow pear. We are not worthless       here, but cradled in a hold the escape from which is ever-imminenteven after it happens, even when we stand for nothing in particular       other than the motion of it. More than furniture, more than vehiclewith wheels or wings, we are the voice you choose when you can’t       choose two. We are your portion of all things. So if you feel as ifa spell is cast on you, or you can’t quite account for yourself, remember       we’ll always be here at the bottom of it, over. All we have is life.