Monday, June 27, 2011

In Lieu of Transformation

This is not your father's legalese. We skated where the other struggled. An accepted opening strategy is castling, in which a line of three pawns can be thought of as a moat.

A linen disposition. A little spilled water. A cat in the window, dying.

Could we at least dispense with your opposition to the matriarchy? We chuckled behind root beer floats and vanilla coke. Tears welled in lieu of transformation.

God came and revealed me a tryptich. Why not put Gertrude Stein on the one dollar bill? We designed a bridge while munching soba noodles.

We've got to get around the importance of temples. Star-shaped clouds amidst cries of no. The baby goat bounced up to the bee hives, barked when stung, and bounced away crying.

Tunnels beget separation. The horse cleared its throat as if to say why doesn't anybody ask me where the cart goes? Beavers worked through the night, heedless of the highway department's recent purchase of explosives.

Your transformation is my old world map. A sodden mattress reeks of frog.

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