who are you sitting chair like; walking sometimes folded and watching, not knowing me. chrome morning of nothing to happen, to be out of here, a day of wandering selfinhand leading to the beach and the sea, back again, walk away through street light shadows, city lights of town, but a face of yesterday, tomorrow and now pushing itself close enough to hear, with of glass and sunshine. Spanish wine talk, letting time runaway, green dress run around brown coat yesterday eye look and the undulating sea laying across sand and fog coast of early morning, brown hair eyes of sight and sound of sea birds lonely fly across the night before that begins in the cool light weaving its way over her face, still asleep. John Neff 40 who's where and with what and how several times over and over asked again to what and for who. come away with a tight mind and eyes that ache from remembering what she looks like. come back to the sounds of silence that run and flow through a slowly turning building. feeling runs high, the first of many canyons that spread among the hills of the mind and thought on the subject of the who. where is she now, what runs through her mind now, who is she now. the girl colors into fantastically saturated light, LSD playing havoc with silence and sunlight, noise into clamor and children into shamans floating from themselves into death and rock and roll records. with what does it be made of all, change to the what. John Neff 41