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September 25, 2005
curls in the toupee
the rains have given up the goods
sporting a corduroy fleece lining
under the weight of thunder
the vodka show stoppers
speak underwater passages into a xylophone
my comprehension is prepaid
and therefore, held without bail
the ladle of moon spills light
onto the written testament
guiding the fork in the road
to a dead end sign
we bury a saint there
something for the conspiracy gurus
to augment
I don't have much;
a couple locks of hair
and an opium weight
to pad my footlocker with
and I don't plan
on ringing any doorbells
in the aftermath
it takes a great amount
of time
on the tracks
to find the road
that leads
everywhere
Posted by Drexler at September 25, 2005 02:06 PM