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Tick tick tick

March 25, 2013

As time ticks on my writing style is ever changing. I have been encourage to use punctuation over free verse, void of any. Also a poet friend suggested I study someone who has mastered the art of no punctuation, and I will, but for now it will be more of a challenge to find my way around commas and semi-colons. Enjoy this prose written a few weeks ago…

Entertaining Your 60’s

Do you ever miss the simpler days of one room bullshit; beds were crumpled war plots, bad coffee played on every street corner, rats tussled trump cards when neglectful four in the mornings dragged on, a stack of books perky rabbit ears were waiting in the afternoon, and no one cared what your mode of transportation was? And washrooms were no more or no less than the sculleries they represented.

In present rooms—  crap piles up year after year; trips to foreign countries, magazines picked up in airports, trinkets once gifts, are at odds lying about with little or more sentiment on shoulders, and everything has at least one dark secret within its refuse. Showrooms built with coffinesque facade. Its gloomy corners lurk behind every piece of dark furniture housing the lost, covered under plastic recyclables, frilly useless pillows, and only during insomnia nights do they speak the peace.

Damned if you do markers, yellowing and peeling off milestones worth stumbling over as the clock now loudly ticks. ‘Thieves are welcome’ sign painted on the back of a cardboard game box, torn by hand, and goes into the window. Please come in and clean out every expression of the former owner. With help, they can carry out the aging, and take them to a new home.