Not Looking to Imaginary Figments.
You with that 1” thick (not Armani) elastic statement, taught and squeezing hold of eyes. You, with the downward punching picket sign BANG!-BOOM!!-PLAZOW!!! when she finally leaves Quack’s table; the one who saves lives. You, the one I thought into existence. Yet, I am the one that is always wrong.
1 year ago