Friday, March 27, 2009

We're starting to try to fall asleep again. The groggy, depressed sinkhole, no bottom in sight. They promised today would be different, but it is not, so everyone's bailing. Headed for a bigger and better lighting system.
you check your watch.
you look outside again.
no change.
We're still here, though. Got our dime bags and knee pads...ready for a brawl.
We'll take 'em on with dirt blind eyes and long-winded whispers. Take them down hard, pound their faces into the grass until they see it: they can only go deeper.
you'd be fine with a smaller part.
you'd like to try one where you listen a lot like a mother.
the animal and the small man watch the sun go down in shifts. sometimes together, though.
we crawl out through any cardboard boxes we can find, lying on the side of the road.
rolling down washington stop hill in circular trashmade items.
bring it back, bring it back, bring it back.
i got your backs.

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