Sunday, March 30, 2014

30 march

although in the end it turned out to be just the middle and the fiddle wasn't a banjo as some had suspected - a clearly misdirected angle to try and wear out - a scouting party sent out that never returned earned plenty of reputations across divergent nations of similar statures (whatever's the matter will make the guide book / will cast an easy look about appearing to case the joint as if that's something one does) easy as the fuzz separates from sweaters no one wanted to destroy the joy falls off of trees that haven't been fruited or mints that haven't been watered the otter and the pussy cat totally unwritten and unrhymed have chimed their eager paces in starstruck races toward infamy when we see the truth unfolding we're easily beholden to the teller but no matter the buyer the seller is higher although the customer must defer in some cases and anyway i'm no business type though the line that drives will always arrive faster than the score if you know what i mean and it's an angry scene that knows its own ending pretending to fabricate dinner dates and other sideswipes with overripe tomatoes and plums like depths you crept past while looking for heights and what i want to know is who to show this as i blow this chance to smithereens the soup tureens and handmedown silver deliver too many chances to be good and understood as i am tired as a ham sandwich without any lettuce there are situations we cannot pretend to defend but it's a deep end we're diving into and we can swim through if you like with those sundays wide open just a cherry toppling over with snowish delight

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