the grifter

 

beltway
 -1r-
companion

 

 

 

saw an opening, drove to the lane, yet i forgot a 'p' and got stuck on the tarmac.

there is a fondness for the raw didactic; 

an affection for

being blunt. the mats 

are rolled so tight i can't get that contact, the one that

transfers, ferngully, finally, what was i typing; oh, that's right i'm tipping 10%.

 

can't control carlos, carlson, causation, nor any of those c-b-w's, it's like an

alphabetic soup for the soul. caught a foul ball and everyone stared: they had eyes of a

burnt cuban cigar. yet the cinder was lit (so was I, but hush, you lush) and i had to

obey: 'throw it back!' and so i did.

 

there was a chorus of cheers.