introductory nonsense before the story which will be the play or something like the play I must write next

I feel the pain migrating again and the loss of fight undulating groans in homespun action characters on long trips out of winged carriages who knows the places all can see the sites of massacres and flights of kites in two bit raindrops accustomed to long nights tearing into me like butter knife through very tender beef or mutton that feels on the tongue like a loves palm salty mixed with heaven and just the right fake grass and bushes, merkins, underwear models and rock formations and dust clouds understood if you can you will I know I go inside of wants I want I need I sigh I bleed I smoke I choke I hooked the rope to the skyhook a goodbye hook for slow necked travelers like me and long grained bulls caught in the headlines grab the horn as it goes bye. Bye. The waitress in short dress told the boy all she could but it was not, as you would think, the story he’d been longing to hear. He had two friends, both of them like him, cheerleaders for the worst high school team in the world. Unlike him, they were girls. It was hard to cheer hard, sometimes hard to even show up to get showed up by the much larger teams, much stronger, more angular mega warriors with laser hands. If it was hard for the teams, it was harder for the cheerleaders who broke their backs to be cheerful and optimistic, crazy though that surely is. Because insanity is trying out to be a male cheerleader to cheer for the worst team in the world.