Blessed are the times I lost me keys. They were signs I made. They were flashing.

Blessed

Blessed are the horsey days, the gay stringy days, the horse in your court, tennis days, the surefire ride home thru wildernesses neither dense nor trim, wan sun setting on my trophy days.

Blessed  days before, wet pleather days, unpaid, the more and the less. They play out in narrow parameters, in parking garages, they apply themselves and rise hightower days and name tags.

Blessed are the unctuous encumbered bikini days. They appear too small. They slumped.

Blessed are the times I lost me keys. They were signs I made. They were flashing.

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