The elements of surprise/fun and what I'm doing before and afterwork

Not much for the second one. It is September, though. Time to scour. I'm going to turn into one of those people that implants the harvested hair follicles back into Uncle Ted's scalp so he has more confidence in women. Now he'll have the teller from the bank, Sofie, you know, the one that wears the gaudy blouse, she'll be eating out of his hand. To the pub for a round, some cheesebread, and then whomp, the new sheets are broken in.

Test that thread count, Uncle Ted.

No, but um, it's time to work on poems and flash pieces. Five of each? Sure. Sounds 'bout right. That's a nice, square number. Five. Are you working on anything right now? Let's trade. Thoughts at least. Maybe work? I'm generous. I'll wipe your work twice, front to back then vice versa.

What does vice versa even mean? Is that Latin? No, is it? Wikipedia, plz.

**

So, how about we climb inside a moment and have it take us yellow taxi cab streak downtown to the harbor where we can skip rocks and coax every foam bubble and fermented drip of backwash down our throats and talk about every woman who's ever disappointed us in one long, confused breath?

Let's do it.

I think I'm going to start dedicating poems to everyone. Poems and stories. That poem was for some jerk.

**

Quality beer? This one. Yum. Excuse my corny face. I had a few of them in my system at the time. Six pack for $6.50, yes please.



Bottoms up, internet.