I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream
Of warm impermanence
And so the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They're quite aware of what they're goin' through

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

Story Bone

From a real event on the way home.

"Surreal is when you see a dead-ringer for Stephen King in a jeans jacket, his lank frame puckered around the wheel of a Ford LTD with a hell-bent-on-leather look on his face waiting at the stop light."

Or something like that. I had to do a double take.

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