Compass
Ice for bones. Hurricane voice. Get down to zero before you climb back up to 90 degrees. What if the rose sunned in the west?
Compass
Said the man he looks up to: “I’ve heard a lot about this room.” He got her to crack, a smile only half-hidden behind her hand. Not just your children, at arm’s length, but your sons and daughters. Imperious, his wife calls her, yes, yet you’ve got to respect that she never lets the world get away with anything.
Compass
The shadow of the American flag is longer than the flag itself. No one in the rows rising above him. Starting blocks. Lap after lap, he keeps himself below the surface.
Comapss
Your blessings, your messes, count, uncountable. Bad start, light stuck, to the day. Why the hell does southern exposure suck in all the hell? His pet peeve: a set table with the unsettling detritus of elementary school homework, of paper Pokemon pouches, of infinitesimal kitty drawings.
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