I come from the East, on a boardwalk by the shore. I am pulled and stretched, born of ocean water, yet never wet. I stick to teeth and fade with time, an oceanside prize wrapped tight in disguise. Chew me slow, for I pull back, I fight to the end, sweet and stubborn, a delicious rare treat.

Why you might do something without realizing why you wanted to. Often confused with the state of a coma or deep sleep. Start with what some call a hoagie, then the people who fill a prison cell. Next is the person in charge of a company’s systems and data issues, followed by you and me. Finish with the home of a surviving dinosaur, or maybe a very wet log.

Whirling summer breeze, Silent partner in the heat, Turning, cooling peace.

In my old wooden drawer lies a scroll of magic, where secrets blend and tales unfold. A pinch of this, a dash of that, conjures delight from my humble hearth.

I’m a mechanical beast of burden. One wheel, two arms, and lots of work.