I smell like chlorine

Swim on a Sunday afternoon, home to a broom, saunter past Boom and eat mac and cheese. I have nobody to see, just me and the fleas in my sneeze; the strawberry jam on toast with tea and - with the kitchen window open - the inevitable bees. Where is my wine? I haven't gone boozing for over a week; appetite been slack, like a dirty green potato in a dusty brown sack.

Gather your whimsy in a paper cone, call your mother on the telephone, she's up at the cottage, and the blood in your head collecting; take aspirin to lesson clottage, fear a stroke, by pen, blacklisting men make your life miserable with, punishment for whippersnappers so guilty of wit.

How did my job interview go so wrong? Maybe it was my tapdancing, or when I burst out in that song.

Backup plan? I have a hundred and ten. Fear not, as I do not, we live in the land of the donut, not the 'do' nut and I do not see a problem!

"I thank him not for his cordiality, but for his punctuality; his rhyme and sense of timing, that careful attention to grammatical hygiene. "

Or maybe it is autumn's approach that places the sun above reproach. Value what disappears, learn to love beauty after the years, he said "that's why I don't spend money on beer;" ah but so many people have wax in their ears.

For a half-hour, this is worth it, a moment in the ultimate, that I am so filled up with breath I must share, and so empty of nothing I don't dare.