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Sixteen vestal virgins passed my window today,i felt the soft foot fall echo against my payne of glass looking out on the world..there was a standing sly joke once, about how many virgins you would find in a telephone box,depending on how many foaming mirth's one had consumed during the telling of such riddle so gathered the total number.



This picture was taken this just past saturday morning..after a harsh Autumn night....my first thoughts were when i was such an age where testerone hampered all thoughts, i would have rather spent such a night masturbating,than demolishing a phone box..i wonder when the last payne was crushed did he,they, orgasm in unison as the glass trickled to the floor.Usually such sights as this become every day norm,i sigh hunch my shoulders..wonder what the fuck..and just simply side step the glitter on the tarmac shake my head in disbelief and walk on.
The sixteen vestal virgins now have to find some where else to haunt..i wonder if they have time to hear the Millers tale..trip the light fan-dangled..i wonder if the telephone box had been playing " Whiter shade of pale " would destruction have been so....you said there is no reason,the truth is clear to see one of sixteen vestal virgins leaving for the coast...maybe she is going to San Francisco to put flowers in her hair..perhaps the telephone boxes are indeed red there.
Normally such a sight before my eyes,just makes me hunch my shoulders deeper back in time to the sixties thinking gosh why did it ever end,however progress has sucked my cor-juice to sublime notions, i just could not help but sing softly to my self as i drove away.... " Whiter shade of pale "...a sixties song which simply melts my head and thus forward facing footsteps take me away to where ever..and " though my eyes are wide open they might have just as well be closed ".Means i do not have to look back, glimpse progress with a wonder stick of driven thoughts in political correctness,maybe this shuffle on the phone box is a protest in it's own right, bedecked in rainbows which are shoved so far down our necks as a compulsory projectile,rather than stand in awe at a free glimpse of a stray rainbow not caught in the cobwebs of you will do.

Comments

( 3 comments — Leave a comment )
foucaultonacid
Nov. 19th, 2007 01:35 am (UTC)
perhaps they were 72 virgins and a different type of adoelscnet explosion took place...
hughknox
Nov. 19th, 2007 01:04 pm (UTC)
the sixties
i thought they would never end. it was glorious, and i am so delighted to have been there.
wishesinwoods2
Nov. 19th, 2007 03:26 pm (UTC)
Perhaps Dr. Who had a phantasmagorical orgasm while masturbating in route?
( 3 comments — Leave a comment )

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