The upskirts at the end of Rasmussen St.,
flaring at all corners,
scouring the asphalt for an outlet or extra cord
between the feet and several thumbs of a file of mourners.
There are still lighthouses, at least a few,with beaver scraps on the floor:some undeniably useful tools.My eyes turned bad at looking at wordswhen they took my visa away in Antwerp.I was 0–10 in not screwing upright up to your Mexican restaurant seizure.
You could see him over there; any one could do it.
The night creeping around the floor accelerates.
Speaking in tongues; the sun got up and dressed.
She had three monitors, like all crustaceans,
Under clouds and the moon during the day.
The windows didn’t open due to ancient paint,
But her hand twisted the latch at every angle.
There’s an uptick in aliens in the winter
Despite the bad weather for UFOs.
University specimen draws lose fewer implants
Around Presidents’ Day, no chocolates or cards.
They were all over the place:
homeless people who played by the rules. The advice
leaked out of their pants onto attendants’ shoes, appropriately.
They clumped into a plot of data points
*Spots paper referendum on the purpose of being Woke*
The protester was lying naked on six crates of Styrofoam, “No! Noo!”
It was a puffy lesson on the purpose of being Woke.
Never staycation, rats are overblown
By a YouTube channel with 70 views.
Kit-Kats, I was waylaid with a bunch of British coins
Oh wait, you forgot to plug in the “nobody cares.”
They didn’t betray anybody; they just came through for your opposite.
One guy died and was brought back to life when they played his fav song,
He emptied the vacuum cleaner and felt really good about himself.
He sat in the corner of a schoolhouse (not a school, you jackass).
He could see infrared bumble bees and their respective pollen.
