On the concrete soil of the big brown land once again. Catching horse flies in the eyes with the smell of summer spiking beads from the forehead down the side of the face. Three moons among blue grass and a jig up to lock down the loot to fly over the friendly skies again. Quick smart no less.
Thick buzzing swats of jelly belly bean black flies. Chewing out sounds from the air as the drop into the inverted bottle hooks up a sweet trap. Bugs to buzz drowning in water soon murky from their own involvement.
No point in unravelling beyond essentials. One two before the third of it free into the return fare. Coming back home in the wrong direction.
Subscriptions, magazines and letters of notice in mounds of envelopes and registrations to rifle. Months past due, weeks beyond redemption and all over the place. No space on the black and plastic covering up the four legs with a sloop. Clear it out with the read and rinse. Three months is only just a half. And a five on the stack.
Templates ready up for the next shuffle. Plans on execution, the test to rest on.
Soon Van - Tuesday, November 27, 2007 - 18:15
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