by Brian McCloskey
An escape artist lifts trash from a fountain. I'll have to wear stockings rather than tights. Every mother loves someone who gives a girl a rose. I want to die before I hit the ground. Blue canoe in my room. I lost our umbrellas at the hospital today. She then, kindly, helped me dress in the seamed stockings that I had been told to bring. I started to wear black opaque tights with skirts. Octopus divers missing, one little boy. And sometimes we even used pantyhose on the guys. I particularly enjoy wearing corsets as I enjoy the feeling. Most often these are informal shafts. I can't think about anything else but that dress. At least as a pony for understanding the original. I dipped a finger tip into the crease and found it wet. A very late, large group of migrating swallows this week were very noticeable. American walls in your back always felt more transient. You can leap from total incompetence to harvesting your first radishes. But I also missed the feel of the stockings. I am not a fuse maker. She held the globes and shook them in her face. Dead men are heavier than broken hearts. Her skirt flared around our connection. Underwear and lingerie cling to our most private part. I was standing on the table and removing my pantyhose, which seemed a perfectly logical thing to do at the time. Pigeons make their own arrangements. Many of these information units were only relevant to one particular type of object. She dressed him in a pair of her panties, dress, pantyhose, and shoes. You are indeed the most beautiful crossdresser in the world. Human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together - mass hysteria.