he was standing right next to a cow
that was blown up by a land mine during
the war. it only affects him when there
are loud banging sounds.

of course she needs a little reassurance
now and again. her pony just up and
died one day when she was kid. they
couldn't figure out what happened and
they never bought her a new one.

it all started during the big "going
to church every sunday thing." he even
quit cussing. we figure it'll last another
few weeks or so and then everything will
be back to normal.

two days after he walked out she lost her
job. ever since then she's been sitting
right there on that stool every night. all
she really needs is to meet somebody new
and she'll fix right up.

they say it just never stops. then comes
sunday, coupon day, next thing you know it's
publishers clearinghouse day. think about
the pay and the repetition. it's no wonder
they sometimes come to work with guns.

he ain't worth his salt when it comes to
poetic creation. he thinks better than he
reads. that's why he is always skirting
around the real substance. you read his
stuff and it is always just a bunch of junky
statements like these.