6 february

in the sky there are miles to go before the clouds run out but the steam has doubts too steep for tea, too wild for hearts and lazy for darts: these are circumstances meant to be tickled like fancies (dancing like wolves at the drive-in, thriving on peanuts bought one at a time) easy as the pickles, learning as we go - bruised like a faucet and dark as the snow: let me tell you how the tide turned and the dark came up: we are cupping our hands and lapping up the watermelon understanding of summer in humdrum cavalcades of lemonade alarm clocks - patronizing tick-tocks: judge not lest you be (pick pockets grooved beats and hooved seats with rhinestones aplenty - when we are riding the targets go denty all along the outside) the dusty pride of happenstance - even as the backward glance of springtime catches dusk offguard, we are paying all our tolls (one dollar and ninety cents at a time and I'm pretty sure that's on my tab - an easy grab when no one's looking, no one's cooking and when's next time?) easy limes and vinegar - salt in all the chips and vinegar wounds and bruises, breaths and truths is there something in the idea of sour what? cream ice dreams that caramel can't quite cure but don't need to be willing to break out sideways fillings (wish you were anyway here and so) (even as the pageturns wheel i know) let's say go on tell me as the grilled's on top and the cheese goes on the gold sounds swan and the goose lays eggs - watch us as we beg and find the win the won the way (listen speak and learn and play)