For lack of a better word

I’ve been on the worst side of it. So every poor boy gets none from me. I’ve been handed it all. No poor boy gets to be as poor as me. It’s a shame I’ll have to lug.

In the same sense as old stuntmen explaining that although there’s talent to the spin-outs and wrecks, and that with practice you can actually begin controlling the degree to which you’re losing control, you can never predict the degree to which you land the crash.

It comes down to either bracing or being careful. Never neither because there’s no such thing. Have you ever seen that video of the guy trying to knock himself out with a hammer? Gritting his teeth, pulling it back, and then—no, only hitting his head hard enough to hurt?

What poetry is. But come again. If this is going to be anything more than a draw, we’ll need to swing each other’s hammers. See it through (yes this driveway), though it stings.