The Manipulator of the Grapefruit

This is an image poem that popped out full form one weird night in the lost 80's.

He sat in the lukewarm apartment listening to soft cool jazz sounds with acquiescence as does the manipulator of the grapefruit.
All sounds are merely ideas.
All ideas sounds.
But not all sound ideas.
It's not as easy to be unprotected as it is to be protected from experience.

So?

Only the breeze-change can count on untidy salves and slow cool jazz
Like the merriment of fools procuring clown acts
He allows everything with hushed acquiescence as does the manipulator of the grapefruit.
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