Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Good morning, avid readers. You'll need to slide on down to my previous post and read the first 2 riffs on lost before going on. Don't cheat, the pleasure just won't be as great.

lost, riff #3

jocko sells my flowers, pulled without my care from ancient dahlia
trees, and makes coffee-whispers when i smell him smiling, what a
day full-up with flavors, were i not all loopy lost in mobile, alabam

and i can not see my window, running with these southern fellas,
stepping in their shadows, making smooches for their whiskey, and
i can not sing some sheebops, lying in these dusty places, snapping

sillies with my sly ole flying fingers, or may be i'll read
t.williams, i have a blanche they've never seen, i am a pleasure
rather rare, with treats perhaps unseemly, lost here in alabam

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