The tramp had raped, in an unforgettable way, doing it his way.
His way or the highway, but if the highway, without a compass,
His way or the outcaste way, with the understanding outcaste is spacious– uncompassable.
“I said it was good, so it was good, consider yourself blessed,” tramp espied.
The pacific, blessed, without unrest, and the atlantic, with some beautific relation to the lost city of macha picha atlantis, brave — pointed but not hitting– tossed tsunami wavelets on high–
What is the tramp’s faith and morality?
Or, his general category, undenominated.
Spam of Human Affection 
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