Saturday, November 3, 2012

The Teenager Working at the Gas Station Called Me a Maple Syrup Freak Press

A helmet of dirt, who do you protect? A helmet of lumen. No, nothing is frozen forever. If words inoculate. Corresponding. Try not to keep the nostalgia plant alive. Not enough night & the facial expression of the poem. I want to magic, a walnut worth. Pretty geometry? The car is a communication? Mythology avoids blame, falls asleep on a signature.

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