Something is sticking out its tongue at me from the corner of my mirror.
Ironic and jittery, we are puzzled by the old heroes with their fighting, boasting, and cocksure lovemaking.
Love talks and talks. Lust is brief and to the point.
Comedy distances pain, but leaves signs of it everywhere.
Now that I see you understand me so well, I will avoid you.
Wit: a whim followed by a wham.