Here comes the breeze in my head. In space commas are plentiful. There is a reptile war in America. Hurry up with those matches! There’s ash on that coed’s face. Say, did your mother muddle all things? She bounced up with the directions. Norse men tumbled in from the north. We could all be caviar. Someone’s arrived to unpack us. A window like that can hold a highball. Saints weep in the dusty pews. Shove those maps into the corner. I’m double parked in Bolivia.
The Petting Zoo