MELLIFLUOUS, not carnal, intent

he won't be corporate, anyway he can't seem to get incorporated, but if faced with anonymity, unfamous, unspecial, unheard of, he'll whoop it up, quietly, as what he wants most, anonymity, not corporated, and he'll make a plan, a good plan, a humane plan, to drive to delaware, without strings, without could'ves, not incorporated, or someplace like that, with smellable ocean, not landlocked, stay to the edges, and get a job, a job of sorts, a little job, a humane job, like write a newsletter for the humane society or deliver mail or sell some vegetables, grow some vegetables, sell some vegetables at a wooden stand on the side of the highway, with a wooden sign, "pumpkins," the most benevolent vegetable, just like him, it's a plan with symmetry, a good plan, yes a humane plan, not corporate, not incorporated, just himself, doing his thing, in his house, that old house, that little house on the side of the highway with wooden siding and a rusty oil tank and a zucchini garden and the smell of patchouli and not a single mirror in which to glimpse himself chewing that zucchini, that lonely sad zucchini