fracture

Do you dare stay out? Do you dare go in? How much can you lose? How much can you win? And if you go in, should you turn left or right? Or right and three-quarters? Or maybe not quite? You can get so confused that you'll start in to race... down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace... and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space. Headed I fear towards a most useless place... the waiting place. For people just waiting. Waiting for a train to go, or for a bus to come, or a plane to go, or the mail to come, or the rain to go, or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow, or waiting around for a yes or a no, or a string of pearls or a pair of pants, or a wig with curls or another chance.