Eye do not give a Fig, Newton. Listless as you or Rios cooky. Black as pitched coke a cola black as nutt can be. The lunatic fringes hanging from your laminated lamp shaded hat. You are so cold as ice boxing with Matilda’s fridge a dare. Wearing that shift eating grin in that Sears suckers suit. Polishing apples with waxing labels of brand new name calling lentil soup. The board near the cupboard bare while the Board of Directors sits well in hand turning over a new leaf in her holed tri-colored Binder Glasses wiped clean and left behind near the outbored motor grinding softly in the background making coffee tea or milk for all them meloncoly babes. She lifts her finger as hushes fall about the place the meeting several talk at once the talking stops. Begins the meeting flosses all the toothy grins. She wins.
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