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i thought long and hard about what you
said and yeah maybe i am sick in the
head but what exactly does that mean? that
i wouldn't smell that whiff of spring on a
recycled friday afternoon when your going
going gone crossed my wire like a hot flash
on a cool night? a third degree burn right
across my generous disposition? couldn't
tell if that burning sensation was due to the
spasm of my esophagus or that caustic spill
that trickled off your tongue like rusty
water does when you've washed all your
strippers? yeah i guess i did stop making
sense that day you didn't even let me finish
my soup black bean day old bread what i
was sayin? cut me off like a sunday driver
on the huey p long aint that what you call
playin chicken? narrow bridge two lanes one
exit only i went off the deep end all my signs
were vital but i played dead just so i could
take you with me yeah I saw that fire up
ahead but i didn't smell what you had cookin
that was pretty chickenshit on your part hell
at least i had an excuse i'm non compos mentis
remember?

Copyright © 2002 by Shannon Gleeson