[archived on 10242020]
2+2 and 1+3
What you get is what you see
3+1 and x+4
Having less is having more
3+1 and 2+2
I miss her, so I love you
2+y and x+3
You can’t be what you can’t see
3+y and x+2
I love me and you love you.
Little woman, I want to talk to you. Can you talk? Can you call? I wish to bathe in your echoes and drift in the ripples of your jive.
The air is crisp. The moon is but half full. I sip the finest vintage of orange cherry syrup. Perhaps some tea to loosen the cricks in the neck. Earle is quiet. Dawn is always near.
How are you?
Good! Goodly how are you?
Well. I’m well.
Goodly. Yes. How’d you sleep?
Goodly. Do you love me?
You love me.
Fine I love you.
As much as there are cancer cells in my intestines now thanks to the ulcers you’ve caused me.
How much do you love me?
Well, I was going to go out with my friends on Friday, but I canceled with them so that we could spend the night together.
Awww you do love me!
Awww. That’s OK baby. You can go out with your friends.
Are you sure? I would rather spend the time with you.
No that’s OK baby. I’m busy Friday anyway LOL 😂
Lust. Slut. Words.
Morning. Birds, birds, birds are grazing in the yard across the street. A flock of hundreds of birds meddling in the grass. A squirrel skits by, and all the birds rise and flee, Terrified, like billowing black smoke into the sky, fleeing to dead branches, to sterile telephone poles and black wires, fleeing unable to catch a decent meal. Fleeing, returning, only to flee again.
But among them, there are those few, those happy few, that band of brothers grazing, who keep on grazing, who won’t succumb to the conference of the birds, who will not flee in terror, who won’t react, who don’t take cues from scared and skittish things. The ones who stay on the lawn keep grazing, and they eat whatever they Want.
10252020 0900 John! Would love to see you sometime before the Second Civil War. I’d like to properly say goodbye.
Back to chapter one.