With my sorting through the storage boxes, I am coming across a lot of “junk” items, that really hold nothing more than cuteness. The repaired cross using blue thread did dangle from my rearview. It is the newly located clasping belt loop watch that is really doing it for me. That little sweet honey could not be duplicated not matter how much thread, clasps, or former Work “I.D.” tags had been utilized. So out of 12 cheap watches, two function. (Mostly) With the gem of my collection attached even at this very moment to the top of my trousers, all of my watch concerns have been put to bed. I am still going over the new-fab look that my rear-view mirror will behold. The current decorative collection is more than just a bit entangled within, and without of itself! Known locally as the “Captain”, I have held true to my moniker with the delivery of jewels and gemstones. I usually will hit the local pubs for an ice-water. After placing two dollar bills upon the bar top, I receive a smooth tall glass of their best. (Not in one of those smaller well lipped beer glasses, either!) I wear my hearing aides and ask the bargirl to turn it up just a bit. Do you remember the ’83, ’84 depression? Did I mention the songs from Frank? Those would be “Can’t Afford No Shoes, and (HotPlate Heaven) @)The Green Hotel. So, after I put on the Journey song about “One Day Love Will Find You, and break all those chains that bind you, though until that time, we’ll both go our separate way”)(The boy with the senior crush from 8th hour study hall, is now dead. So I am the King, Yes, I am The King! From MegaDeath!) So they changed their hours. I guess any tip at all, if that would be it other than the JuteBox, would certainly not justify opening at 10:00., rather than the new time @ 1:00. In any case all of my other treasure has been duly and justly distributed to the local charities.
From The Book (slightly edited); I drum things up, at the expense of cordiality, as I beg a favor, oh please, oh please for me (no fee) while humming your song upon the sultry tips of June, it must be now the highest high, of many many moons, then when your hand grows old, goes cold, will you conjure off to me, dreams of the past so free, so when I look to you with longing eyes, you bask me in serenity.
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