REALITY?: Rewhatever

Stuff to say but till it softens in the sun I’ll need to keep it hid.  Still the bits and pieces of the meanings float and bounce like bubbles blown from a plastic wand and rise just out of reach.  It should be easier, I would have thought, to travel tween the highs and lows, having set the course of wandering way past in time.  But whether pushed or tripped by my own feet, I note it that much harder to get back up.