you are the company you keep. hunted like a pack of wolves, yellow eyes and rib cages. the world is a weary place for the lonely hunter. traveling in a pack, i'm one of many everywhere. Michigan, Manhattan and California; I find my wolves and keep them like baby cubs. I don't love many but the ones I love, I treasure like they are golden. And they are golden. Better than gold. Nothing like having good friends everywhere you go, people to talk to about the ways of the world and all the occupying nonsense. A big bear hug, a shared sweater, midnight laughs and picnics in the middle of the street.