mmccviii

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     Even activists must freak out sometimes about how little we’ve done.
                                                                     —Kevin Killian

I’m not exactly sure how to put this, but
it’s Tuesday morning.  I have no idea
how to say this, but the potpourri really
stinks.

We arrive on motorcycle, all black &
white.  It’s Easter Sunday.  The aunties
arrive on motorcycle, dressed to the
nines, circa 1959.

The tenants began to grow suspicious
when the scaffolding remained up
for longer than a month.