Saturday, March 19, 2005

The Cat of Democracy Died the Day I was Born. And it dies still every minute I live

My mind is like an un-massaged muscle. It attracts the hands of every eager massuse, with oily anticipation. Your compliments gird me in pink, and parade me around the city.

I give, I give, I give.

2 comments:

Tom said...

Your comliments dress in me in plaid leather pants, and make me dance apon the marquee.

Tom said...

...er Thanks Cori!