Thursday, October 16, 2008
It's as if they weren't even there. Can you explain, I said, or comprehend, but what was it besides that. In any case, but that's another story. Slid over to the main stair, revealing every chapter to be looked at from different angles, strangers wishing they weren't so nutty or politic. It says a lot about you, just from the design of the house. And onward until the house comes apart in your feeble hands, but not that feeble. No one can reveal a hat trick like ploys of surrender or sophisticated blundering. But what if they, I mean who said it would be easy? It seems to me that a lot of what people are saying means closeness isn't what it used to be, or that people in shires like those we used to live in ourselves no longer get out the vote, or someone is telling them to behave like vacuum cleaner repair- or sales-persons. Giddily we exchanged glances across the aisle from town to town, all down the line, over meadows carefully scripted like the weeds of another bloviating hardship. Yikes. It can't be that the movers and Shakers are so adept at culling that none of them says, Looky here, I can put clothes on, just like people and women with gloves on like the frilly lace I played with strings, colorfully on the dime of great policy. It's the devil inside that becomes terrible to sit by, and wait, and wait, the eagle says something to the hawk, and first come, first serve, the suitcase by the door, walking up to it and away from the same time. Good luck.