by Brian McCloskey
There is no rhythm of events. The two patterns should be opposites, but still complement one another. We're a bunch of suicidal spiders. And try to figure out if we danced with any transvestites. We are descendants of the second cell. It had the sound of a snake slipping out of a refrigerator. The buttons on that dress, the grief of that cold water. Love's blade might strike the jetting vein again. It's simple: I'd like to buy and wear all I can see! Ducks are good because they have no arms. I’d be an idiot if I didn’t marry this girl she’s so great. Who will you dream of tonight? It is an attractive way to make your jeans extraordinary. These are more tangerine and feel delicious on. Sometimes the tights consumed me. The fox burying his grandmother under a hollybush. Throb, a throb, a pulsing proud erect. I have to look nude but not be nude. I felt an electric jolt as I slid them onto my legs. Time's ruins build eternity's mansions. Do you often hang packages of human hair in the vines around here? London's teapot and I'm simply teapot all over me. Tiny roulette planets fly from his hands. She dreamed of having had an unspoken unremembered conversation with a horse whose name had been Joseph. We are the country that is tamed by children. If you can slip it over some hose, you're good. My spirit animal is going to eat your spirit animal. I was told long ago that the pink tights show the lines better. The cotton seam should stretch enough to go over her head. I spent the whole evening convinced people were staring at my legs.