We eloped with a shotgun. And bought a hacksaw on the way to do some plumbing. Of course we will go to the semantic beach to search for shells. The Stop sign is red and plump. Sober so we will hit it. I'm a little late for target practice. So is she. Should I tell her how to stand and put the apple on my head. I hope she doesn't read Burroughs very often. You know I'll be in a small cantina in Mexico for vacation. They have finely crafted sugar skulls you can taste. Cerveza and the royalties covering the tab. If the marriage doesn't last, at least it was perfect. Once and done. I don't think I will ever get married again. We will always have Belle and fine sportsmanship. I'll let her throw the zirconia in the volcano. Earth might produce another one through plate techtonics. Our relationship is distant and abstract. If she needs mild smarts I can mollify the mole. Poor Joan, she was probably better at writing than queer old Bull. You know, literary outlaw stuff. The quickest write in the old Wild West. Be careful where you bestow the Harvard comma out here in fertilizer country.
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| Motivation speaking easy? |
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