the standard line about the fish being shot; it seemed even
if all hope was silly, it didn’t matter. How could anything be,
except: just as it all is? One way, Jose. That said, wrap me up,
baby, take me up in your chariot, let’s head to light.
I was out the other day, a bit keen inside, eating away at
what ain’t much left; at the wind rising I still thrill,
tip to toe; it’s about as good as can be. Well,
we’ll see.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
I Wasn’t Buying
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