Educated, Unemployed, Intelligent, Tradeless. =============================== The surface of your soul is where the birds fly. You walk on the ground and try to keep the image of yourself intact. The shoes get dirty. You are bad at your job because if you weren't your job would be who you are instead of what you do on your way to becoming yourself, if kept intact. The surface of your soul does not differentiate between the markings on their wings. To pretend you are not pretending is dying. The surface of your soul is where the light comes for the boys to look at all their cast shadows. Or else to look at you and see clouds up there when strands of cotton dangle from your ears, falling from your mouth. In your nose. Covering your eyes. They say how pretty it is. "How pretty it is to imagine all the shapes you might take when the shoes have numbed you." The clouds are rabbits and the cotton are rabbits and they want to pat you if you will not run. You say how pretty it is to imagine all the shapes you might take when the shoes have numbed you. The cotton is on top of all the medicine. The bottles are child proof. Clouds are made of cotton or else stream from smokestacks and make you choke. To pretend you are not dying is a way of living. -e. _______________________________________________ Five7Five mailing list [EMAIL PROTECTED] http://www.pairlist.net/mailman/listinfo/five7five
