Tuesday, October 04, 2005

House of Sorted Things Left After My Father Died

here the people come thus, you microscopic black hole, to live.
You wouldn’t even consider saying “Please let me know
this is mine and Kelly’s cat that they would let die here.”
maybe I am slum lord. I saw: Hospital. I saw a man who

varied and, um, sank. The people gathered around him,
saved ego the remainder. Their "pee" spelled out quotes from
famous Prague residents. I saw a pregnant woman. She pushed
herself with difficulty, raised shining, toad-like eyes to Minerva’s

face along a high hot wall, after which she groped sometimes
around him to say that you haven’t pushed her to the limit
of her potential. she is still there. yes, I just learned then
that love is stronger. She's on her path, just like me...

I sought on my plan: House of Childbirth. Well. And I must
still note always: The problem may happen again but
medicine will fix it – if anything can. Broad Rue Saint-Jacob and a
large building with one couple. The plan gave the Hospital to

a Valley-of-grace soldier. I did not need to actually know that,
but it does no harm. The lane started to feel squeezed
on both sides to the point where most of the songs
feel like they're spewing confetti. it smelled so much

that to be differentiated could, after Chloroform,
after fried apple fat content, after fear, after all the cities
feel in summer, I saw a particularly colorblind house

that could be found in no plan, but was still rather
ennobled by its door. Night shelters. The prices
were beside the entry. I read them. It was not expensive.
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