then. and then one day just after the first day of spring in the early to late final quarter of the century before last, benjamin franklin was catching electricity with his kite. and he was fat and crazy and fucked his slaves in the evening and early in the night. so many days and nights he would swap and switch and play games with um. He’d call everyone a genius and then slip them some chaw and howl at the sun, making the wee ones lick the excess juices up from off the black oak table tops. it was all about slates and being clean and no one can cry without say-so. Say-so from Benny and his kite and all that pent up energy he kept locked away in his slaves arms and chests and feet; so much about the way the earth rotates off kilter and on an ever changing axis. He was mad from syphilis.