Our pay comes in grain form. Seeds. Casts of futures. LOL. It's unusual to hallucinate in the daytime, unassisted, but we do it. LOL. There's a building cut from butter, a subway car pushed along by blueberry bees. Jammy. Good morning, city. Ads for the new thriller over ads for the old thriller. More bees. Bees Part 2. LOL. Sweet bees. Mean bees. Low-flying bees. Forget the bees, already. Always, with the bees. Lunch time. We'd like to eat over there. Better view. Fewer bees. Being there is breathing air. How lucky. The grains do not jingle like keys or coins as we walk back to the neighborhood – they go “Wuffa. Wuffa.” We grow to love language like this. Grain tones. All the sounds lose their sting. We move over the ground. Work – LOL! Abington is bee-free (or will be). We primp and trade seeds. We were expecting a different story. A different currency. Nicer bees. Smarter foes. Cooler profanity. We trim our beards, make tweaks to mood and dress.
released December 1, 2010
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