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Now John at the bar is a friend of mine. He gets me my drinks for free.
And he's quick with a joke or to light up your smoke, but there's someplace that he'd rather be.
He says, "Bill, I believe this is killing me," as a smile ran away from his face.
"Well, I'm sure that I could be a movie star if I could get out of this place."

Sunday, May 6, 2012

Story Bone

That was the day that birthed a thousand orphans.

A thousand orphans were born that day.

In the shadows of the saucers a thousand orphans were born.

The day the saucers came, orphans were born by the thousands.

The scream of saucers masked the birth cry of a thousand orphans.

Take your pick, or any alternative.

2 comments:

Elizabeth said...

I thought that was going to be a poem at first, and then it started looking like one of those responsive psalms in church.

Steve Buchheit said...

I guess they could be read that day. I just wrote down the first line, and then my brain rewrote it. And then rewrote that one, wash, rinse, repeat.