the american dream by Eric Hinkle"the american dream
or
a pretty not bad italian sammich"
lastly, your disbelief is entirely
convincing: not to mention rather
oddly becoming. where did you find
it? i'm told the rungs of the step-ladder
to the dregs of your soul are as slick and
sleek as the drugs of your step-dadder, those
fun, handsome dolls he hates best. but where did
i hear that? i haven't any ears, after all: not since the
war waged wast week in ol' Officer Fiendly's front yard,
the war where the deepest feelings between the vicar & the
country squirrels were not only wounded, but removed entirely,
with the utmost & unpleasantest lack o' ruth. O! the heartlessnesses
of our wretched race to the Finnish Lein—and as if that weren't foul
enough, the full-grown babies are now loitering around the Little Mr.'s
aisle, wearing nicotine patches and whistling death metal in D flat flat flat
flat. what ever will they drink of next? but WAIT, those freshly-starched argyles
in the clearance, quiet as white-bearded wisespiders, are not dreaming, but peering,
LEERING, even, into the endlessly shallow depths of the seamless seamstress' borrowed
masks. but come on. i can't leave you like this, now, can i? you will well understand that it
just simply cannot—happen—here. lastly, i just want to say that taht yas ot tnaw tsuj i' yltsal 10/16/2011 Posted on 10/16/2011 Copyright © 2024 Eric Hinkle
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