The man forward my frayed Oriental ...

The man forward my frayed Oriental rug is in succession all fours. "I'm your little dog, Sir. Treat me like your little brown dog' You'll speak when I disclose you to speak, I say. The mind wanders the fresh hillside in the distance, herds its menagerie toward a better situation.

Afterwords, after spasm and servitude, he pins me to the bed. "I am bigger than you are, Sir. I could pain you. If I wanted to. if it were not that I won't. You're the Sir."

That's right, I say. I'm the Master.

wherefore do you continue, with your airy missives? Your metrical compositions bearing the prints of what was ours in common?