sipping a drink that I erroneously believe to be "tropical,"
making Robert Frost faces in front of his cottage, spanking trespassers with a rolled-up poem,
standing in the shadow of the most awe-inspiring Jesus statue ever sculpted--his eyes are literally black burrows where the badger Judgment hides,
observing the cat Archibald, who spends all day bathing himself on Hemingway's bed because he is a king,
and gazing at pages of meadow-porn, spilled from the filthy fingers of one John James Audubon.
Clam-clamorers, can you be content with these?
5 comments:
ROBERT COST FROTTAGE! (Or similar expletive of equal failure and disappointment.)
O DANG, how did I miss that frottage joke? It was right there in front of me! Anyway, don't cry, baby steef--you know I'll probably eat them cakes anyway, for science.
I love Key West. I took classes with Sharon Olds in that red building behind Jesus. Haha! Double name dropper.
ps. You look exactly like a swilly pirate in those photos. Well done!
xoox
I knew I felt something in that red building! All like a wind, all blowing up the skirts of perception!
i suppose it will suffice... *sigh*
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