It's late. It's gotten late. Sunday nights are the blandest, always have been. Somehow when you have music on, it's not so bad. Just keeps the wheel turning. Like a bike upside down and you're just there easing one of the pedals.
If phone calls made sense, then I would use a phone more often. Yet phones drown people. I damn near drown every time. Can't help it. No life preserver, no blow-up vest. No boat coming to help me out. I don't like telephones anymore. Maybe phone calls are like poorly executed bits of syncopation. Just too much. Too much. Makes a bad racket.
It's funny thinking of this chick. No clue how it'll work out. Where's the relation? Who knows. But I keep at it. I'm easing the pedal on that bike I turned upside down.
I always liked turning a bike upside down and turning the pedal. Makes me feel like I'm cranking an old movie camera from the twenties. Sixteen frames a second. Gotta keep a beat to get that steady sixteen. Just ease the crank.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment