I wear my heart on my sleeve, a gaudy accessory I readily admit; better suited for the cavity of my chest. Maybe I should move it, put it under my baseball hat or carry it in a man purse. No, fuck the man purse, it goes under the hat. How will it change me and what will it matter? This heart, this useless accessory. I think I’ll just throw it in the trash and let the rats dine well. I have no need for it now. Many people get along fine without one…