Thank you! ART ATTACK Mauled by the fall of art from the wall and command hooks that do not obey a solar splat floored near the one of the side-eyed sun with a heart of sole hungering for soup cans served fresh to impress a top-hatted owl sartorially framed and perched content in the corner to glare with monocled stare rapt or bemused and a sad dude who stoically sheds one acrylic tear from a spiral eye’s hollow skull while humanoids afloat in organs learn how it will burn and how this f--ery will turn or pour out like the java pumping life blood under silent timeless painted boomboxes that I don’t know whether to press play record or rewind to remind that they who rock well rock best when the mic drops the suited bard breaks our hearts conducts us to a ghost car singing our good-byes the day after Trixie dies only hoping the honeymoon of this endeavor is never over.