October 27, 2001
Everything's great, thanks.
I went to write a letter.
It's insurmountable. Look over there.
No high-protein diet energizes
the wrapped loaf. The swept sea.
means two are striking.
Nose for the present,
you on time,
my favorite mug.
The soundtrack is out.
But if not for noise and valleys,
where could we debut? Mere
possession of facts is face.
But count some up;
cool and garnish.
"What's this? Trix? Aunt! Trix? You? You're after the prize! What
is it?" He picked up the box and studied the back. "A glow-in-the-dark
squid! Have you got it out of there yet?" He tilted the box, angling the
little colored balls of cereal so as to see the bottom, and nearly spilling
them onto the table top. "Here it is!" He hauled out a little cream-colored,
glitter-sprinkled squid, three-inches long and made out of rubbery plastic.
-- James P. Blaylock, "The Last Coin"
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