Yuck. The new white meat Chicken McNuggets McDonald's Are the final fuckin 'insult. The eleven mighty franchise is now a full-fledged joke. I'm absolutely hatin ' it! And, to think, Minawnas Mommy! WAS one of my very first expressions as a toddler! Ah me!
're tearing down my old playgrounds, you filthy pimps. And your cookies taste like sawdust!
Are Two deaf girls sitting in a booth eating burgers Directly in front of me. They Had Walked in as soon as I Had sat down at my wobbly table with the tiny blue stamp handicap at the edge so That my friends Know Where to wheel up. They scrunched Their faces and a flurry of gesticulations Indicated Occurred Had Something dreadful just recently, maybe in class. Oh, There Were secret joys, They paused for Some confidential nothingness That spread to pregnant Between Them and Their Shot Through linked jest stare. They Covered Their Mouths in unison and giggled unabashedly. The one with the brown curls absent-mindedly floater over to the cashier and slipped her a yellow index card across the tile counter and They Both payed ready money.
I love how Sometimes You Can Tell the health of a girl by the full thickness and Their rosy cheeks and fleshiness of the showy bits of the ankles, and plump the "above the shoe sandal, or by the brilliance of Their indelible smiles, an outward Harmonious display inner workings of perpetually That Remain unperturbed by annoyances like hisses and sirens shrill city. Two deaf girls with very large bones, AmaziahMLXC They've dumped the contents of Their fry cartons together to form a large pile on a tray and Them They pick at, one at a time, unconsciously waving wands to conjure Them as an inaudible word and to banish it Without a sound. They swipe occassionally Their cups and drink the watered down soda bubbling That tastes like medicine Nowadays, jets Which wild Into Their throats untempered by straw, all crashing fluid in the tender portal. No music is borne of These gullets, But They Are content to jerk Their arms and hands skillfully in the Exercise of a story, quick circular strokes sentential As They sculpt a shape of abstract squiggles, Which Their nods and shrugs punctuate like possessed marionettes, Their That thread eyes like needles Their Exchange of woven telepathies. They Are warblingus in their whipping movements; their arms, a tongue, their bodies, a tongue, palms, fingers, vivacious playful tongues! The expressions on their faces are bright beacons that shimmer with every tiny inaudible point of digression in the animated telling. The air between them is thick with twisting, darting signals that float, merge, and hang, a flapping tapestry.
I covet, at times, in almost unbearable bursts ...
I wanted them. I wanted them both. I wanted to bed them that sole hot instant because I am forever clumsy and dumb with handshakes and meaningless casual embraces, and my sights were fixed on this fine plateau where bodily extremities are perfect communicative instruments in a comfortable silence ... and the act of sex is the most potent way I can
0 comments:
Post a Comment