The soon-to-be-announced clog the airspace and, despite fluidity,
make-do with the accoutrements on tap . . .
A Bud Light . . . then a doublewide . . .
equating the lack of erudition with a sad impulse
begging someone to speak volumes . . . to deconstruct past players populating
imaginary dioramas with wannabes from Golden Books . . .
Vegetation's understory forecasts acid rain
while offshore an Orca grieves her calf . . .
Will you please google the answers before the endgame? . . .
How many minutes on the clock? . . .
He/she will be retired to a type of Walmart . . . in the high peaks . . .
Impartial, if you will . . .
Your mentoring festers in a circular file . . .
let go when downsizing seemed inevitable . . . this too Instagrammed . . .
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| Julianne Moore by Peter Lindbergh |