Signal fire into the drill floats back on the mental end. Tiny pieces and large flakes from the sun-baked goods of white and recycled lines eat up nice and thick mud chocolate slices. Heavy on the tongue and a weighty mood to settle in the relaxation of knowing the end is nigh. The end is here.
Easter eggs again spot the rounds, old numbers made odd lying in the red lines from the basement to the roof. New cards stick a ceiling to the underside of the radioactive sides. Scotch and tape, the hold which defies gravity until defeat by the feint of age. Cornerstones to match the pebbles and cobblestones of the white and melamine.
Parting shots on delay make the random cause of knowing only a name and nothing else the business of saying goodbye. Where another takes leave and this is the watch on from a distance one month long after the stay. Capture the notes and watch the pizza slices melt over the boxes. Last one out is a ham and pineapple slice.
Morning springs with conversation that brings a harmony of sending off the night with the final whisper. Last call and the ear knocks on the shoulder with a drift into the land of mere weeks away in lots of eight.
Wind down to the walk off.
Soon Van - Friday, June 29, 2007 - 17:29
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