Those little baggies were supposed to unleash all these great words and stories but it only unleashed laying (I do not care if it is supposed to be lying) on the couch and watching TV.
Cindy Morgan in "Caddyshack." Wow. Touch myself.
And then a postcard to someone I care about.
And then the sound of a fan.
And then that goddamn fucking echo. Pacing shirtless and sweaty.
And then a faded photo of two naked children, babies really, standing on a ledge. Tan lines and hair so blond it is almost white. She looks a lot like him, a little taller, hair a bit longer. In fact, the best way to tell them apart is his hand on his li'l itty bitty junk. She lifts a hammer.
~O~
4 x like a billion = how much I love you:
dont say baggies you make me have to poop and my palms get all sweaty
I like the style you used here a lot, is really an original way to tell a sequence of events
1. So many empty baggies strewn about my life. Oy. They're like Tribbles around here.
2. I am looking into your Latina lova. I don't recognize her straight away, but am doing some investigative work to track down her ID. Stay tuned...
"Revirch"
Let the magic baggies inside you do the work. yeah.
I like your words.
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