if instead of listening to myself fail to subvocalize the mystery I made sure to have been better prepared upon approaching the off-ramp, I would have done so within skinning distance. anyway, the butter churned as planned. I co-wrote the lacy script for her lobotomy, and everything went off as envisioned, just as wheat lifted itself from zero in the field. I never brought to light the choice I felt in infancy of whether to be flute-bearing or fraught with twelve unwieldly strings. the voice itself presumed to be an instrument annoyed her in a peeled way. just as shamrocks parsed the parkway amid lorikeets and saffron. in a minute, honey, quoth he repeatedly as the braids blinked around her neck and jumprope hastened to align with voices hardly tuned together. and the mittens of a gentlemen went right out of his watch zone. parcels on the floor. shares of companies no one had thought were public made themselves available. each one who thinks sufficiently about herself is thereby rich, because the fable has to seem point five injurious to someone other. thus the wise merchant contains the seeds of an unwise customer repeating customs quite unwittingly. the safest sauce remains tomato-based, as if to mimic inner issues kept astride the heartbeat of a nation state one ought to itemize.