Congratulations on the fête du jour and prix de fixe as well as the service compris during a time
of obvious gratis non-publica!
No doubt voices echoed down buffed halls and heads clinked off tiled floors; when the abscess
burst it sent all afloat in not fruit but phlegm.
Don't stop thinking about shaded life with cigarettes dangling and long-coated collars raised and
everything quite London, 1960's.
It reminds me of hitting the brakes not knowing if the car was big enough to take care of the
Komodo dragon (all 12 feet of it!) and hitting it, waiting for it to jump through the undercarriage
like the endoplasm of a prehistoric egg.
But fate was with me and spun perfect and called for a Haz-Mat team to clear the venom that was
like goo rather than rubbing alcohol spurting through the rubber-filmed one-way top of a flask in
Flagstaff.
And I can't say that I haven't thrown years away myself, hoping drunk that the mattress and music
would stay warm.
But late afternoon headaches came and ruined the vision of that: All the better! I've traded cold
afternoon comforts and Budweiser beer for brighter days and better sleep and welcoming days,
welcoming, as trite as that sounds.
And to walks and to not shake from without, but to bounce as one and not one independent of the
other.
Still, I am drawn by the crisp and frosted even though I'd been burned back in the days of
untimed toasters.
And I am still vulnerable to early drunks, next day phone calls and halitosis mornings.
But to walk down the street and feel some peace with it; no not as this or not nearly that, but now
taken with the sauce as well as the meat and cheese of it, and not throwing the crust away either.
Only 110 calories take a long time to add up.
of obvious gratis non-publica!
No doubt voices echoed down buffed halls and heads clinked off tiled floors; when the abscess
burst it sent all afloat in not fruit but phlegm.
Don't stop thinking about shaded life with cigarettes dangling and long-coated collars raised and
everything quite London, 1960's.
It reminds me of hitting the brakes not knowing if the car was big enough to take care of the
Komodo dragon (all 12 feet of it!) and hitting it, waiting for it to jump through the undercarriage
like the endoplasm of a prehistoric egg.
But fate was with me and spun perfect and called for a Haz-Mat team to clear the venom that was
like goo rather than rubbing alcohol spurting through the rubber-filmed one-way top of a flask in
Flagstaff.
And I can't say that I haven't thrown years away myself, hoping drunk that the mattress and music
would stay warm.
But late afternoon headaches came and ruined the vision of that: All the better! I've traded cold
afternoon comforts and Budweiser beer for brighter days and better sleep and welcoming days,
welcoming, as trite as that sounds.
And to walks and to not shake from without, but to bounce as one and not one independent of the
other.
Still, I am drawn by the crisp and frosted even though I'd been burned back in the days of
untimed toasters.
And I am still vulnerable to early drunks, next day phone calls and halitosis mornings.
But to walk down the street and feel some peace with it; no not as this or not nearly that, but now
taken with the sauce as well as the meat and cheese of it, and not throwing the crust away either.
Only 110 calories take a long time to add up.
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