i met a beautiful poetic man in the fabric section today. he asked for my business card for his wife. i don't have a business card. he was hunched over looking at the weave in the burlap, tapping his cane on his deck shoes, asking me questions because he was impressed with me for some reason. but he was a lovely fellow, you can just tell. he had this grey whispy hair that issues from chimneys on nights when the sky is pink from the snow. because apparantly that's what happens, with the snow.tonight there are whales swimming in the windcurrents with white fog coming from their mouths. they are on their way to the bus stop. i drove out east until the houses wore down to dark 19th century dutch paintings and replaced by an inkwell and giant glowing orbs. it was lonely enough. what with the whales throwing warbling dead wax smelling shadows over me and other things below that never mattered anyway. but i don't think loneliness has to be important either. 
towns down diagonal lines
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