mordicai caeli (mordicai) wrote,
mordicai caeli

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bob dinero.

the coconut soup was upsetting her stomach last night; i'm left imagining strange tropical parasites then remembering that the stuff came out of a can. cans are supposed to be safe, safe even until the end of the world & beyond it, right? i try to keep her distracted by playing guessing games- first its "any integer between one & one hundred (1-100)" then eventually "any real number between one & ten (1-10)" who's results turned out to be 7.63636363 etc. the game she invents is "guess which number i am thinking of that rounds up to twenty (20)."

i keep looking out these thistle shy windows & expecting to see car crashes. what do you mean the world isn't my colliseum? you sure throw tridents like it is. the lady or the tiger? you know, i mean- the ghost or the ufo? which does he wake up to, princess? something about dolor. that sepia word. something about constitution coloured exceptions, jenny quilling nightmare exemption slips into my chest with her tongue. last night i dreamt about nightcrawler etching the angelic script into his flesh, cutting his face & his shoulders with the sort of pen-knife a turn of the century british boy would carry in his pockets. the blood pin-wheeling down the drain like a peppermint twist. talking about his christian name. guys like me, we have christian names three (3) numbers long. why don't you take a moment & let frank black tell you all about it, man.

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