Yesterday's

Driving, no--flying--alone past midnight. He stares, she stares. He's in the back of a car. Wolf's sitting in the driver's seat, her bag in shot-gun. Not fun. Paws on the wheel, she-wolf grips her paws, on. And off. She-Woolf sighs and her muzzle points up towards the ceiling. He stares, knowing.
Driving alone past midnight you come across these things. Like a chair in a street light spot light, lit. You come across these things because they are what you're used to. She, wolf, turned the corner of the block, light ticking right
right
right
right
right. He's used to this kind of driving. The fences look absolutely purple in this headlight, the grass a deep cerulean! She's so, so happy. Relieved. This is it. This is their street.

















Solicitude
Don't ask a stranger for things you can do for yourself.
Estrange yourself.
Blow a mind, blow some time, do a crime.
Slit slime on the concrete, slouching. Sit, sat!
Stare and stare and stare and stare and stare and state and stare and state.
Only listened to the radio today--FM. Seek'd it out. Heard some remembered songs, and stared. Smiled.













YES, IT IS THE JOY OF LIFE!