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I know where Oklahoma goes upon hearing from Canadia. The brooms align, won't brush away leaves or the branches.
Everything you think is creative, in actuality indicates a mental defect. A way to think of things that spreads. Your hands are clenching and pounding fists with the other ones. The kids want you to sign theirs, and breasts go out of fashion. There is an entire chicken in my freezer. Romance novels and masturbation? Jakarta and bombs. Romance novels with bombs? Military romance. I'm so tired of feeling you without feeling you without remembering. Dear God I don't believe in, I might believe in something more like ghosts but what does that matter? My grandmother's wishing me to hell without realizing, none of this exists. There's what you feel and what is real. There are trees that break when you climb them or wind them. There are winds that break trees and everything is real. There's you at my back with your arms and that sensation of being bug or turtle or love.

$8 wine that resembled and dripped like a bouquet. Becky's blog on a large computer and pancakes and dropped on the floor. Not talking if at all possible. Love and love and love and lobe. Ears ringing and naked.