Saturday, February 6, 2016


At the oasis they fried the container, the
taxi took everyone home. The big guy said
he was from L.A., and he had to leave now.
The ride was a ton of money, but he was
willing to pay. LaLa Boy goes home again.
Planes and boats and trains are taking people
to Paris and Rome. Something like that  -  there
used to be a song. Some paraplegic sang it all
the time at choir practice. Perhaps it has a
religious connotation. The inspiration of
desperation all the same.
Now it seems, by contrast, ( this is twenty years
later), all I do is look up words. Not even any 
longer with a walking dictionary  -  just some
hand-held shit that tells me whatever I want at
a glance in a second. Quick as a wink. Fool's 
gold for the parched. A regular Sweetwater Cafe
for people out of juice. LaLa Boy goes home again.
Sebastian from the Lowland Farms, he's up today to
try and sell his milk and eggs and butter. No one is
buying a thing. The only thing the crank guy wants
is to clear the land for open-farming, free-range
wrangling, natural fed beef and ham. Ham and eggs?
Natural fed beef, and eggs? Free-range eggs and ham?
Natural-fed eggs and free range ham? Beats my ass,
Goddamn. LaLa Boy goes home again.

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