I gotcha, you, the magic can, clicking... I gotcha in my thoughts for the reams of clicks you master for the parade, the firm insurrections, tabulations, the enticing powerpoints, the fabulous gleams of the new machines...all in a row, pretty servants all...to feed on the takers'; the wholesome goodness of it all, the absolute fondness of the hunt and sacrifice. We, of the fond remembrances of flesh occupied with intentions' gleam to paint, to write, to sculpt, to build on the mind's foundation, do, in fact, recall those days, and we care! We care. We really do. Click.