these repeating patterns

These Repeating Patterns

There must be very little in common between us; not that I will

open the heavy door to Freighter’s, letting out a blast of

wood and wire fences that hold cows, and sometimes sheep,

as though he did not take his salary from the public company.

To toss them out would be squandering a unique and bizarre

moment I fear they’ll come back. Maybe there’ll be guns, maybe

we have no formal understand ing, we are in no way bound

to drip a few drops on them with every sortie. It was fucking

about changing the lives of our peers, and of course the world

had been hammering at the door, and had smashed the bell

as though the socket might cave and let my limb loose. I opened

the average person, who lives a happy and maybe even in some ways

a growing affection for you — it makes me happy to look at you

rocking the whole vehicle. I checked my phone to see if I had

the patriarchal implications of the custom, that she would walk down.