Tuesday, October 06, 2015

Tulips around the Toolshed (For Julie)


Relentless energy.
The point isn’t to try and guess your weight.
I’m not attracted to fun houses or mirrors that make me out to be living breathing crime noir.
I just want peace and quiet and a secret life I can call my own.
Relentless positive toxicity. Yes such a thing does exist in my mind’s eye, out among the
Pharaohs and High Priestesses.

I remember when you, me and Abraham Lincoln sought shelter from the invading storms.
How you and Honest Abe took to each other like two nitty-gritty guardians of truth often do when they cannot escape the moon and everyone is looking at them like they’re only wearing a top hat.

I cannot get Word to behave. The lines above are not meant to be indented and everything I try only seems to make the problem worse.

Charles Cicirella

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