maybe i could be working my finger-tips on an arts&kulture blog; prattles of mundanity string along. i have found: three fourleaf clovers. the first now in a book, maybe forgotten but with nowhere else nearly so logical to go. the second, lost, likely, but in a supreme gesture. third in the mail tomorrow. to you?
so i suffered and suffered, cursing the poison and willing it out. i pounded my fists, really, and was kissed, after all of that, a thousand times, through my hair, even. and again, thank goodness, oh my, the newest day came.
no complaint, here, but the song still kept playing, and i sang it like i liked it, over and over, until i realized, slapped it out, and sang lover's spit to drown it out. irrelevant. time now for libations: wakk-y wednesday.
