Stanger Crossing

is oh, calling. Long lashes, wingtips, can I say it? That I’m bearly 24, there is a patient, there are seasons ripping into eachother, a cat on my foot, good cat, I have a secret in me it’s this right here.

I talked to jimmy today about life in the general. It felt good to look at things with one big eye.

I read chekov because because.

Tonight. Talk to paul, jimmy again probably, cross. These are the ways I am most happy: straight writing wide open, he said ‘good morning dawn’ and that was it. I’m placing shaking hands on the stone, saying grace, and the turnstile is tremendous by now. The gloaming. A rock in my right side pocket and were it to buzz, something would surely purl around my mouth, my tiny eyes, the sound of rolling an old bed open.

tell me good luck, what’s after this? and I say shove it right up there Mr.

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