Binary Inversion
 
Anderson said ideas turn us into grotesques.

But what does a guy from Winesburg know who thought the man with
     the flapping hands was lovely.

No, ideas are our friends.

They help us 
     help us to make salt shakers,
         computers,
              bowel movements,
                    this very poem.

Once a man did confuse God with a bowl movement or at least
	the ideas of both but that was only because an accidental
	smudge of seratonin that didn't get cleaned up by whoever
	it was working at the receptor site that evening left a
	switch that should have been on off and a binary inversion
	of all things took place in an unanticipated but perhaps
	not unprecedented manner but it was nevertheless a
	newsworthy item even if only of local interest, 

And he shat his soul.

It was an accident.

His wife declared it gain.

Co-workers didn't notice.

Unable himself to notice something that left no residue for his
	synapses to get a handle on he was unable to explain why he
	felt slightly improved as though by a discretely resolved
	problem with gas which embarrassed neither himself nor
	co-workers intent on not noticing or at least they said
	they didn't.

Friends could not be found for comment.

His children missed him.

The man flaps his hands a great deal but it signifies nothing.