Picking Sides

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Happy, alone I sit.
Till, you need some help with it.
I put down my paper
You back to the make up.
I do a funny quirk,
It gives an empty look,
Crawls back to your employ,
While I sit with his toys.

‘Please help me with the baby.’
You ready for work: apply the powder;
While I entertain the boy.
The baby bored wants his mom,
And crawls to your employ.
While I in his room—sit alone,
Playing with his toys.

Is there a better moment in all of KHVI (part 2)?

Castle. Two men. Swords drawn.
OLD CLIFFORD: What seest thou in me York? Why dost thou pause?
YORK: With thy brave bearing should I be in love,
But thou art so fast mine enemy.
OLD CLIFFORD: Nor should thou prowess want praise my esteem,
But that tis shown ignobly and in treason.

The respect they have for each other. It stops them from fighting, and York uses the word ‘love’ on his enemy.

Then York kills Old Clifford. Hey. He’s a Lancaster.

Coffee story: truncated

I love coffee. This last Christmas I received a gourmet bag of whole bean coffee. My grinder broke, and I go into Whole Foods. It’s early, The grinder is to the right of the take out coffee place. I’ll go in, grind my coffee, and leave. The machine breaks, and I’m torn because a third of the coffee has already been grinded, and I’ve got Continue reading Coffee story: truncated

The coffee situation

I love coffee. Coffee mugs, cute spoons for measuring out coffee grinds, coffee machines—everything. This last Christmas I had asked for gourmet blends, and I received two bags of whole bean coffee. My coffee grinder broke, and I go into Whole Foods. It’s early, there’s already eight or ten people in line to purchase coffee/pastries. The grinder Continue reading The coffee situation

(But) We don’t live in the desert

Squalor and lemons might oust our position,
Forcing our pilgrimage to the outside world:
From routines, and whiskey: Away,
From lamps, and soda’s: Away,
From weddings, and Wal-Mart’s: Away.

Swirling, often accompanied by purple winds;
Bending our forms sashaying through sand,
We’d disappear and live off Continue reading (But) We don’t live in the desert

Frisco, and the Dead Duck

I had a dog in high school that was amazing at three things: hunting, swimming, and running away. This dog, you come home from school, you’re tired, you just want to open your door and you open it, and his little devil brown snout wedges itself between the door way and gone. He’s gone, and you won’t see him for thirty minutes, and you can’t be like, “Fuck you, fucking Continue reading Frisco, and the Dead Duck