justwrite 9 september

just as we thought we bought the wrong tickets and there’s nothing like a minute missing when you thought you had two left we’re bereft of options up for adoption are some varied stories but the glorious answers take their own chances dancing out of turn and we earn no interest on such investments pressed into the vestments of a holier sort an order purported to bring dignity to the scenery and also guitars try harder I’ve noticed but the musicians ought to listen as well ought to tell stories but hear them too and we’re true enough to tell we’re smart enough to spell all those answers out in braille and we failed other languages but the damages done are hung out to dry like so many broken records saved from the wreckage of the backbuilding trashbin turning britisher diminishing the strategies to ease back toward American the stratagems sparkling quarking subatomically and easily we breeze through taking hot showers and buying melons in the morning we’re warning ourselves but we’d rather not see it’s a wonder that we can contain ourselves with so many elves making cookies in the trees we freeze our answers and keep them for later why of course I’d love to holding a glove to greet the later opportunity wearing off that sort of immunity struggling with impunity we are the triumphs we’re getting the mumps and we’re turning them off again the faucet has lost its dulcet droplet but in the meantime it seems fine to listen to some other station I’ve a fascination with sounds and I’ve found static too dramatic and the tension too blackwhite the backlight really sets the mood and I thought we’d improved since the first undertaking but then something must be buried or you’re wondering on the things they carried and worrying if they’ll be set down and spun around like bottles playing their own games their rainbowbricked fairytale musicals the truth and all the useful theories bleary in their earlymorning confusion we have closed off all the illusions so you won’t have to watch your step we’ve kept to the path and granny’s on her way to meet you anyway no wolf’s about to defeat you in the hay or elsewise those big eyes and that willingness for surprise darlin I never would surmise otherwise