This is what I do when I'm sitting through a three-hour town council meeting that I already know isn't going to give me any stories: I write poems in the outline of my digital recorder.
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Fried.
Spilled out and
charred when someone
balanced the upset. So sorry
to hear it. Churn it into a
violent rainbow built on
warped pastels, crinkled
red and boiled blue.
All taste is
gone.
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Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Neko Case, Fever
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