| better words . . . . here there and everywhere |
It isn't so terribly clever. You gave a gift. A seemingly ordinary birthday gift. What's stunned me is my amnesia. How could I forget what it was and what it meant. To him. To you. But I've remembered now. And I am stunned. But my crafts are sharper than yours. And at best, you've displayed your amateurish, naive New Age stupidity. A heavy-breasted figurine, back arched, undoubtedly experiencing the throes of passion. You pressed your fingers deep into it, right? Did you light some incense? Did you shut your eyes tight? Did you speak to the Moon? Wicca 101 for the inept, indeed. You will crumble like granola. |
better places . . . . over under and through |