Quizzical stares lead to a room where empty nesters
eager for the next assignment
take the scenic route to work
slip through metal detection . . . and into cubes
to engage their fantasies . . . before lunch . . .
Something bodes well here . . .
gaining momentum with Ashberian clarity . . .
wrestling with the script . . .
high water marks notwithstanding . . .
The new millennium continues to strut its stuff . . .
Santa will find out who's naughty and nice, anyway . . .
Some prefer not to carbo-load . . .
Some prefer to pick them up and put them down . . .
in full view of a diorama of articulated porn stars
sporting incidental galoshes . . .
speaking exponential volumes
brimming with architectural references . . .
Is this working? . . .
Is it making a dent in the indeterminate afterthought? . . .
It's time to cut to the chase . . .
to stop picking lint . . .
There is no story here . . . no landfill . . .
no hooks . . .
nor ax to grind . . .
nothing beyond your metric . . .
a drop in the unimaginable bucket of leftovers . . .
X + Y + Z = more . . . or less . . .
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| Dree Hemingway |