That thick hide between inside and out, is less, or more hidden from. the words who choose to flow. They flow. from fingertip to eye, and from eye to the places I go. I went down a street, where a word dressed up to meet. me, bolder. than I remembered it; me not that older. then I remember, I went back. and the words tracked. along with me, flowing out. those traveled tips, out. and down to the page again.