Circle is a happy guy. In the rain, in a crowd, even on the fly. Circle is happy in plain view. Circle is happy incognito. Circle's happy in friends a few. Circle's happy with a burrito. But there's one place circle isn't glad. It's actually more like, he's sad. In the womb, in vitro, the sperm approach. One squiggles through his membrane, like a jittery cockroach. Now that, my friends, is a shitty place, to be a circle, the human race.


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