Wishing Funnel

Sofi stumbles over, Mr. Lincoln in tow-- dented, matte, oxidized-- shouts, “eins, zwei, drei…” on point, fist clenched, Sofi dispenses Mr. Lincoln down the ramp to whip around and around and around he whips, churns, in circular fashion each round distinctively unique yet shorter than the last until – “Sofi komm!”