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Sunday 10th June 2007.

7-up,the time consisting..3am..;i still consider this to be Saturday evening..a chinese take away,which would have been better if i had simply done, but pour salt straight into the hole in my face.....the fact that flesh came up in a randy mood has soaked the sleep from my eyes,if but only the time to sit a while and plonk through the keys....How many million men infest the planet,i have just come off a blog,where a super looking human thinks he will never find a relationship....???...DIE LIEBE IST MEIN FUHRER....Has a male,ring the tone could be set in stone,the bells could ring out sending more plaster down amongst the pews,it has been a long time since i last sat down and talked to the rust clinging to the belfry....i have finished the 7-up.
This morning in a clear blue sky,warm t-shirt weather,i came across someone who i know in only a smatter of words..hello..good morning...i am in the garden...not even spoken,but a small note painted on wood and hung on the front door,each time i see it i smile,as though something of English lost in a time warp stored in mothballs from childhood days back in the imagination of collected hot summers,zipping bee's,fluttering peacocks and warm lemonade.

This morning was different,she was dressed in a blue t-shirt,i could make out the size and shape of the bra beneath,nothing like a fetish size,simply comfortable to think about long after i had turned the corner...words came out stucco,not a moan, weary,as if describing the contents of a can of 7-up.Though simply a life change for her;her mind was still on the magic roundabout,i do not think it had quite sunk in,or probably like, how i would have reacted,as if it was not real, and she would be able to pull heads out of the lucky bag and go back to her bee hives in peace,tranquility..her son 19 handsome as hell it's self,who i have glimpsed grow up,is at this time lying in a hospital bed with a brain tumour the size of a tennis ball,missed by the men in white coats for some considerable years.
Beneath the blue skies us two humans stood there,what could you say..oh wowo fabulous..hope he sails through it,or just stand there and wait for it to finish,feeling that she just had to get it out into the world on this sunny saturday morning been, to someone different...she apoligized..for spoiling my saturday morning,We mumbled some friendly retorts about life,how we moan daily,when really we should be grateful for each day cometh..but we both new come February,we would both moan about English weather.
As i left shrank into the green foliage..Mein Fuhrer..Osma Bin Lid..all those rocket heads who walk on buses to coat them in red coursed through my mind as the bends opened up,the blue sky bolted to the heavens,the wireless spoke of the man who sold the world,quite why he passed on the stairs,will always intrigue me,perhaps so...The last farmer,the last drop,quoted the warm blue skies and how easy we forget February,i thought there amongst all the horse shit lying around..that shit is indeed life,19 is no life to be lying in starched white linen and i really do not know what....

DIE LIEBE IST MEIN FUHRER...

translates too but ho-hum and i hope it makes the grim reaper miss call today.....instead sits playing the sound of music..gosh come to think on it was there not some handsome lads wrapped up in that film...my zany flaccid mind is now sinking back to warm flesh and i must say farewell to thee.

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bichoose
bichoose

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