apres le pez
that night sleep did not arrive in any way it had before.
my bones were a hum with a burning -er perhaps eating that egg salad that has been alone in the sun all afternoon is not the best choice -
and the little tiny traiangular steroids were chatting with my narrow marow sticky self
and the flavour or hot dogs and mint was awash in my swollen and tender veins -
but - ahhh what dreams may come queen Mab - when in the arms of juliet you sleep
and what dawn brings - dark or light - at least we made it through that night