by Brian McCloskey
Money hides shyly beneath widows' beds. I wouldn’t be mad at you for jumping on the trampoline. The difference is the tightness of the threads. So if not Big Helen, who rings the bell for Portsmouth? He holds his clipboard in a scientific manner. I don't want to swim around after another chiropractor. They kiss like dolphins. She's just a stupid Beverly Hills tart, held together by hairspray and pantyhose. I never wore types all that much. Will those dead chickens find the winner? Once upon a time there was a snail and a beach. I decided to suck a few peppermints on the way to the presbytery. I think it's the ribbon or something. But he was wrong to invoke the pie. Your entire outfit is not complete until you put on a comfortable pair of tights. He asked for bread and I offered him fish. Like she escaped or something and dressed herself for a change! Does it really matter which hand is employed to absterge the podex? Why would I kick a hairpin? My body is an ocean of twisted white debris. And my night is not the sky's. And I stare over the edge of my Asian novel. Tights are a necessity. I sit there on the tram and start picking at them without realising and more appear! There are pears that only ripen in December. I count my sister's parakeet. I like the look of the delicate, tiny sequins that look like dewdrops. I hope one day to be a spiral. I only wear skirts/dresses and I love it. These words are always closer than we think.