Saturday, March 3, 2007
Asps, xenias from Atlanta. Come to the Atlanta lodge up on the street called Street of Bigger Times. Cubes of water, ice over your shoulder, become ice that never is extinguished or resumed. End ice flooding highways, that was on TV yesterday, yes you were seeing your own reflection when the highways became melded, became single mirror driveway, hedges extinguished the hallways burning books, bush. Serve science by handling your own remarkable ash. Yellow and cream trunks erupt from my Atlanta science center, it's a fat dream over creamy lanes, creamy turning in the night. I'm smitten. I'm just intoxicated by your tasty jeans.