Tim is not one, Tim is many.
Tim is the quality in each of us which can get a slinky all the way down the stairs without stopping. Tim is the voice on the phone that you think you recognize, but you don't. Tim is the head which leaps out of your bathrobe when you least expect it. Tim is the cry for sustenance which can only be answered by cheap burritos from the corner taqueria. Tim is the gratuitous bottle of soy sauce that you never bought and can't get rid of, no matter how far you go, no matter how hard you try. Tim is the freak in your window that you're too polite to turn away. Tim is the never-melting candy which spews from the mouth in the living room. Tim is the carton of fudge putty which turns out to be water. Tim is one with the night; he is...acquainted...with the night.
Last modified: Tue May 26 22:02:23 PDT 1998