flat
fish
cold
dry
collected
disturbed
wet
hot
blurring
me
Thought of the day:
(the sillier the better)
Walking to the drop-cabin
on an old shaky Convair 580.
I press in a nervous hurry.
Imagine, the airplane crashed,
and I was caught on the locus?
There are other ways
I wouldn't favor to die
having sex with a whore
scrubbing the kitchen floor
my mouth full of shaving cream
and
eating spaghetti all over my face