so I can deliver the goods. The
limits of the left are choking me.
Time to literally turn the ball
over. Pop a Tic Tac and be
mature. First off, I don’t
usually get anywhere. OK,
point is I really want a hambur-
ger. And someone to play with me.
Each thought sticks inside another,
like those Russian whatevers.
Word is gone. And is gone.
But rubbing tends to, you know,
same thing alternative device does.
It’s the only nothing that works
now that I want him so, he of the
Tic Tac eyebrows and the misinter-
preted satiety. He’s the one that gets
to play with all the hamburgers.
I’m the one stuck inside a Russian
whatever choking on them.
