Hello and welcome. I will learn French.
A tinny music frazzles me as I temp
disguised prose. These words undercut
your anthology of writing a bit for nothing.
I take it this is a way for all of the muck from
the week to stir a little before it settles like
concrete. I could have eliminated many of
these words, but I am preoccupied with these
skies. These skies try new ways of dampening
mood. Look at them dozing hazy dozing. While
heavy they do not succeed over the little park
next to the road. I am no expert on the loss of
stuff to wake up to. “These onions are hot,”
he says. “It’s wine and Kubrick tonight.”
