Another poem about nearly slipping up. At this point in my life I hadn’t read much writing that could be classified as stream-of-consciousness but I knew about it and I liked the idea of it. What happens when your internal editor takes a tea break? B. and I talked a lot. It really was all there was between us apart from hello and goodbye hugs which were lovely but I wasn’t exactly short of pretty women to embrace in 1989 and I grabbed hold of Opportunity every time she came within cuddling distance and squeezed the life out of her. I’ll tell you F. unleased quite the monster when she introduced me to the joys of hugging. That said any body will satisfy a hug but there were very people I could really talk to so I can see why I became addicted to being around B.