HEIRLOOM AIRMAN
'Who owns that godamned Messerschmitt? They
better get it off my lawn in the next 10 minutes or
I'll take it away!' No one listened to him, nor did
anyone care. I wasn't even sure of his reference -
the plane called a Messerschmitt, or that little
3-wheeled postwar German car that everyone
used to drive around in 1947 through the ruins
of all those ruined and bombed out German
streets and towns. They were mostly cool
because of the one door, and the three wheels
- like a truncated and abbreviated postwar new
world. Expectations running high, like now.
The hip idea now is electric. Go frizz
your hair, and plug in your dildo, sister!
-
I have a desk chair that makes the coolest
squeaks - sometimes sounding like a
loving puppy, and other times like a baby,
confining itself into a comfortable space.
The source of such contentment, in this case,
seems only to be me. When I realize that, I
understand how happy I should be.
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