Without my sternum in the water, I glided along with oars. I became naïve to the craft of making-out. I threw parties that sometimes fell silent midway. I thought about what I could do, I thought about what I knew I couldn’t do. I digressed, easily spending time with the potentially tropical. I hoisted up a tent in the middle of the park and called in poetry. I spent days reciting ballads. At night I ate toilet paper and my legs floated away like I was a kite.