A pause for thought

The slant of the sun. The moss-green mechanic with his fat cigar, chuffing like a chimney. The little kid threesome on the gravel shoulder, fist-pumping the diesel driver. and the undetected grasshopper atop my dusty boot. How slowly I move. I’ve never been here, but I know it.

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Fugue

I remember an obsession. I built it myself from wishes to horses. Conceived in a hug and a blush, quickened by preening pirouettes, it seeded the fugue of my madness and crashed in ignoble blackness. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ (We still talk)

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I done something

It doesn’t look much like you see in the movies.  Well, depending on how long you leave it sit, it changes colour and gets a little syrupy.  Marge put in for two weeks’ vacation, so no one has thought to call here yet.  Once I had cleaned up a bit, I took a few days […]

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