So I go all cave man and beat my knuckles on the table. So
what? It’s just a dance. A pretty display, cave men have feelings too. So I
hurt inside just enough that it shows. This is how it is. So I dance some more.
Then we put on our smart-people hats and laugh it off. Throwing handfuls of
hanky-panky back into the bucket. Narrowly escaping it. But even with our
smart-people hats filled to the brim with cheap beer, I want to go all ape and
bang the drum walls out. So I chill it. Put it on layaway. Say so what? Like I
mean it. Perhaps voo-doo eyes knows what she is doing. Seducing serpents. A mind like that would taste good in garlic
butter. Then it’s back to dragging my knuckles across the pavement. Thoughts of
cannibalism pound out of my groin. So then I go all woozy goosy as she proses
my poses with her voice full of roses. Even though she got a doggy bag, she
aint takin nunna my crap! Maybe we should just, Be. Arent we already asks the
fortune cookie. And we dance in chains around the end of a long line of
leftovers and strange lies. So I go away
in pieces, shaking out the dusted. So I stagger through the underbrush,
brushing by the blueberry bushes. She pushes. I pull. She pushes. I plead, Please. But the answer is Know.
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