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There are things that we need and things that are Ned. Nedfulthings: a collection of labyrinthine conversations and a fistful of dreams... |
Re: Re: I dreamed about shooting the clock. At high noon with its hands in the air and its back to the wall...
by
Ned
Actually, the last several years of the children's lives are stored in the back seat. Even though I shovel it out occasionally, it still seems to contain more than they own. And should I give this car the decent burial it deserves, should I run it off the road into a ditch and cover it over with branches and shrubbery and pretend it never existed, then one day archeologists would find it and entire books would be written about the fossilized assortmant of food, clothes, toys and unpopular shoes that get changed when Mom isn't looking.
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The Poet is like an onion - because when you cut him, he makes you cry.
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