--Terence Winch
Pour me another one, please.
I raked all the leaves in the rain and now I’m sore.
My primal fear involves living in a dark forest
made up of half-sentences and embryonic cabbages.
I was frolicking with my fairy godmother the other night
when we were suddenly seized by a chronic inflammation of unbelief.
The old postage stamps are licked. The eggs are beaten.
I look for redemption in comfort food and the second coming of Elvis.
A line was forming outside the darkened auditorium last night
just as the faithful began to chant, “The worst is yet to come!”
I focus on the flowers in the vase in the living room stinking
.........up the house,
knowing sooner or later our source network will expose our files.
There is no way to get your secret back from the secret-stealer.
The soul is mysterious, they tell me. Put it in front of a camera
.......and it explodes.
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