Saturday, August 17


i'm telling you,
my friends are better than yours.
did i hit up the post office like i do every day?
i just told you about that yesterday.
it's not deja vu, neighbors,
it's a whole other 'nother situation.
if you aren't a reader,
you aren't worth much bother,
and that is definitely a thing.
my duders know about that.
and my really real homeboys and girls are all about
sharing the wealth when it comes to printed material.
because the unofficial word-eater book club
is apparently in full flippin' effect right now.
mike holmes lives in philly.
that's that brotherly-love-type jauns.
and we GOT that sh!t, like brothers in arms, 
because we're old-time way back since the olden days style buddies.
and what's more,
he knows about the nerd-book situation up here,
and he's just sent a contribution to the Folk Life & Liberty Library
i love presents in the mail.
that's real.
and i love books.
that's also real.
and i love that my peoples are the kind of worthy word-lovers they are.
it's good to know that there's interconnectedness between them and i
and that it spans across statelines and timelines an' that. 
does that mean it's all expert?
of course it does.
and the label on this latest parcel reminded me once again why me
and my tallest close friend are so closely forged in affinity in the first place.
check the nom de plume-type teleport:
that's a thing, as of now.
this weekend is a pile of ballbags.
too much weak-sauce work i'd rather avoid,
as the rewards are disproportionately small compared to 
the ravaging ruin i'm enduring to collect them.
there's too little touching, too.
i mean it.
the only physical contact i'm making is with gloves on,
and i'm sprawled across people i'd otherwise never ever interact with.
that's a hard style for a soft spot.
if you aren't gross,
you should be hugging me or some sh!t.
alright universe,
let's see if those concentric coincidental circles can cultivate results; 
never quiet, never soft.....

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