2007-03-30
lunch meat illness factory
I am well-contained by a gauntlet of security checkpoints and free associations. I know you: the way you ring your bell at dusk, so the shape you leave in the sunset doesn't get lonely for the echo.
Midnight opens the manuscript: many entrances and no way out. I am lost under streetlights of the Avenues, searching for breakfast in the dead hours of morning. |