to slow heat

you simply must excuse shayna today. sitting so slowly in the slug traffic. everything was on fire. all the heat moved faster than the engines and swung around alabaster pillars, resting their sultry foreheads. the cars kept to a crawl, leaving trails. then there were the walks, ever slower. through dusty trails with girlfriend and boyfriend ducks asaunter, waddling warily, worming. with friends. park benches, futons, car seat conversations. the quiet cool evening planning nothing but somehow ending up forty dollars deep and aretha franklin's advice was not heeded when think came up in karaoke.

and was not headed through the day when she thought to herself "i really need to write that poem"

so as you see, it cannot be helped, what's done is done, and the matter will go no further

unless there are updates.

sincerely,

morgan freeman