Two heads notice their subtlety, they hash....

Two heads notice their subtlety, they hash out hazy rhythms and hope for epiphany. Eyes rolling, heads nodding, nodes throbbing. click. It bursts with vitality.

Eleven heads run for the prize sideless, put it in a box, box it. Tribal dances for the fitness king.

Three heads strut for femininity, they ask for directions. I have none, and sarcasm shocks their black coats that mean to widen shoulders, but only slouch postures.

Stories only serve to hide this irish temper.