Wednesday, October 22, 2003

insult my saltarello 

idle framework, take me to the beginning, says a person in the desert. lecturing the cold and spiking night with potential upbringing, the person milks the moment. the aliens laud the energy to find such a fit. there are minutes in every hour! someone loudly discovers. further chatter controls mayhem slightly, the Red Sox are 'fitting in'. news from coasts arrive 'in time'. someone confuses a child, ladling great emphases upon the least mineral requirements. the world costs a bundle, some mom or dad advises. you can be a gift to the nation, the parent adds. will your gumption change meaning? my gumption arrived from the farm yesterday. I'm the middle name you hated: that's how alien I am. I'm in the middle of drum, in this rough noise called Omaha. when I am thoughtless, I speak to many, says an expert in the spurt. aren't we all engaged in the seminal tragedy? someone asks with a degree. can moments realize toads? is a further question. units of difference add up. someone is grander than ever, and more better than perfecting an idol could take. see the rampage moisten each stamp and delicately affix it to the tender envelope. see the framework of explanation flatten curiosity into a well-schooled bundle. each hour springs into existence with a new collection of minutes, says a youngster who notices the clock. mean aliens use snotty rayguns to compel arguments. why not just badger opponents? asks a child rearing exo-skeleton. we're all damp in this truck, opines someone who has tried to tie the discussion down. no cacophony wins the jetpack that will make distance a thing of the past, adds a monstrance new to the party. hangman, hangman, wait a little while...

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