Juvenile kicks. A restless rich kid from Jersey. A city that never sleeps, next door. No way ladies’ man Don’s fun gets spoiled by dumb, autistic Art. Don,

ladies of the night, was visiting. Fred got wind, sending away from Art, his horny, brother, Don.

Juvenile kicks. A restless rich kid from Jersey. A city never sleeping, next door. No way ladies’ man Don’s fun gets spoiled by dumb, autistic Art. Don,

a pre-teen, night ladies, was meeting. Fred got wind, sending to the military academy, the uber-precocious, Don.

Ladies’ man Don. Autistic, Art. A rich kid from Jersey, an anchor-brother and a city never sleeping, next door. Even then Don wisely knew, life, is fleeting.

No way fun got shorted by anchors. Fred the brothers, separated. One, to school. One, to adoption.

One, to school. One, to adoption. Like a ‘Rain Man’, less local. And more, universal. For Arthur departed not for adoption but for a future. Arthur verily

learned there, life’s lessons. Of wisdom. Of sages. Of so much forgotten over the ages, literally.

MAYDAYS: An allegory. An algorithm. A panacea for Pangaea. Epic poetry, seemingly, with a protagonist from the future, fictional, arguably, nonfictional,

given, what’s happening. Tweets blogged into a book. Every tweet, 280, characters. It may go viral because, it must go, viral.

MAYDAYS: An allegory. An algorithm. A panacea for Pangaea. Epic poetry, seemingly, with a protagonist from the future, fictional, arguably, nonfictional,

given, what’s happening. Tweets, blogged, into a book. Every tweet, 280 characters, cyber, spatial.

Art reasons that among the reasons a cabal’s assassins have not yet silenced him is because of the conundrum, Art poses. Acting like children, they’ve very

likely won a Nobel for Greta. For the moment Art’s extortion of them makes, assassination, unlikely.