A Person of Interest
I’m thinking of a number between one and ten. It gives me something to think about. Like a mislaid knife, the past is not where I left it. Without giving anything away, I think it’s safe to say that you’ll never love someone more than someone who’s determined not to love you back. They say Monarch Butterflies are even more beautiful after they die. Go right ahead, you can ask me anything. Anything at all.
One of a Kind
Eating my slow food, fast, like a snake. I’m on my own schedule. It helps to be in in an electrical mood. There’s something about the flow of electrons that makes me want to bite something as big as a fridge. Some people say I have a Walmart smile, but I’m between jobs and looking for answers. Everybody thinks they’re one of a kind. Medical studies show they might be right.
Bucephalus
I live in a quiet neighborhood, except for the hammering. I hope it doesn’t get into the water supply. Last week, the inflatable test pilots failed their levitation exam. The deceased are always the last to know when it’s raining. Luckily, I was out back on the swing set, trying to split my infinitives and thinking, I’m sure glad I bought the Mojave flood insurance. Two thousand years ago Alexander the Great built a city in Pakistan, and named it after his horse, Bucephalus. He actually built two cities, one across the river from the other. Today, we can’t be sure which city was named after his horse. Both the horse and Alexander the Great are dead.
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