Sunday, 9 September 2007

Prompts 1716 Sunday

It was Union Square, I remember.

Perhaps you'll tire of me.

There is a kind of love called maintenance

That fucking Hemingway

Quiet, by the window of a train

If you were to read my work; all of it I mean.

I give the secret sign.

Of Onions.

You are the bread, the wine, the knife.

I would thank you not for a Valentine


Every time I play solitaire my partner beats me

I simply could not be a good army wife

Less than a pound in change

Seeing you make me want to lift up my top

I am breaking in the new maid for the master of the house

Quiet, drinking wine together, one smokes

I remember the nights and the sound of nights

I look at the mountains. Everything seems flat by comparison

By this axe

Thou shalt know my chosen by their ASBOs

Oh Allen, come and hold my hand.

As far as I know they were working in France.

Darling we've been out a little longer than Columbus

They eat sand eels

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