retrospect callback runaway snippet aside

Years ago, 
when we would interact 
I used to get 
(and I won't say from you) 

a sense that I had you 
sometimes 
taxed. 

Now don't. 
Interrupt when 
I've finished this thought! 
Please, cool - oh okay! You weren't
going to? Sorry and 

sweet, then,
although 

I should say 
the taxation occurred 
between two lines 
I perceived dimly-drawn. 

The line below: what 
you were willing to invest. 
Whether 'cause you should, 
or some other reason found best 

and the line just a neat or a tall 
stretch above: the line of what 
you wanted to invest. 

O love, no don't no don't say 
it is or isn't so. It's none of my 
business I don't need to know! But, 

in any case, no or small vexation 
occurred, just as far as my keen 
intuition could blur. 

Just one line combining everything 
else you should do,
and a higher line:

the specific thing(s) you might want to - or 
definitely did! - but at some point, one must
dismiss frivolity
at the point 

of a gun 

and demand back to work 
back to life 
back to things that, if done 
actually, bear fruits with wings! 

Not some wallow in a mire morass 
of made two. Turned up to molten gold 
in a cauldron so cool, just because 

it leaves a glow 
that could sure, get you through 
some things. 

It's the others we were put here 
to do. 

Okay. That's it! Now, I maybe 
so bold? 

It's only the impression I got now 
and then. No, not from your tone! 
Your tone was fully-given and shone 
like ten! In your voice, I would glean 
subtle glimmers of this. Which includes
also tone, but in only subtle ways 
and shades that flit, and in power
of selection: in concisions 
you'd cut, to contrast
with every fanciest 
flight of your smoke up my

- no, not "butt!" 

Behave, grow up! My idea of you, is 
where that smoke flew, I assure you 
I don't keep my idea of you up there. It's
a realist depiction in accurate limn and
limb and form of someone whose reason
and judgment holds win. Plus okay, a few
strokes of sentiment's art, in the jagged 
beaten halo glows that array 'round that 

sainted head of yours, in which lurked 
fair play, goaded on and powered by
that animal mineral cognitive
subliminal heart. 

Oh sure, a foul play or two, whether
glimmered in the edges of intent, or
cracked through! But that's all in
the rules. It's all part of the game
inferred in what is surely sport, cavorting
in pain and leaping in costumes to fields
like champs! Hot after whichever children's
toy has been tossed in-bounds as-if legal
- or legally introduced, let's say - by mutually
feline houndish offer, accept (balls, pucks,
bats, wickets, hey - whatever the heck
or fuck may be deemed or deigned cricket
by a judge!)

And we have two of those, and
they both seem fair. Wait. 

I lost my point back there, and
will have to fudge forward as if
on a dare! 

My point. I forget which way I'm trying 
to break, sometimes. The biggest point is
it isn't, never was a game, but I suspect 

taxation, when in consequence of a difference 
between gotta and wanna give, is no nuisance 
inevitable on the way to death, but an actual 

benison! Anyway, whatever it was I saw 
I was always grateful. And double anyway, 

I rarely saw it. Just a flicker and ricochet 
shine off some high-gloss surface in mind, 
from a laser-point emitter (that's you) 
playing not tricks or treats, but true. 

It all builds up in pattern recognition
at some point
and you go "wait - HUH?" 

Usually false alarm. You were saying?