This Is a Story about Kaynard

Kaynard floated down then street, not literally, she just walked but her connected

brain was floating in her cranium, woah oah!

Silking shop we light up for festivitie, looking with watershed eyes in also Kaynard's

head. Her head is heated water ballow hot air in the heavy sky, to read like a

magazine. In the waiting pregnant but she is fat and sits like a horse at a mouth

trough. I felt sorry. The music, green faces in the pale area over opaque and vague

grey. A dream, Kaynard lovely snacks on cupcakes, in the evening, she is a love to a

dog, a man heart. She cries for plants and God. It's not heart, but it's hard. Cold feet

Kaynard all over her day in socks and drawers. It is spelled like a book, a dictionary

and a street she is walking on gravel horses manure slick squishy and fart disgusting.

Her nose crinkles and gags. Smelly are all the way to the OZONE, and she lifts head

up at the night yawn sound sneeze eyes water in her titter head. Mousy feature hurt

the day in a day, the mouse sweep in the shallow gutter alley of all wishes for moons,

never lasts in a dark room, and she is underwear for a minute; no one touches her

under my jurisdiction. I set the rules and, in a lucid dream she pale quivers with sex,

the idea of an arrow from medieval in America lonely sad blowing sound from near

trees long demolished in winters of dissatisfaction of Indians horny hungry. Cold,

can't get warm, shudders, rushes, verbs are great.

          Kaynard Oh sweet baby.

A lady in the night reduces me, rejects and betrays. Laughs with a mouthful of soft

candy, sugar lives in her teeth, my tongue, in my dreams. She, on her feet in the

hearty cobble stones. A shopkeeper looks; her eyes are my eyes, I wish; she looks and

the skin on her face. Tight pin. Blurry past up on the erasing good times from the
wood block.

Tales of a wooden place fantasy on the wall in front of a face beyond it behind your

eyes, it does not feel like a hemorrhoid on your sack pus podules in latency after

effects soaking up egos and existentialism on the page fro fried chicken grease on my

brothers sideway herring chicken coat rack for dead lovers. Hunting water fowl is a

nasty sport. It can't get much worse

I hope.
For her
I do it

I lick it I'm happy and let's get back. I don't want to disappoint the reader of my short

story with cute button down eyes in blurry diarrhea; it hurts, but it does not get over,

I worried
for her
I do it again. I'll try again. Kaynard steps, her giant feel crushing dirt molecules under

the weight of whatever may want to trouble you. The truck rushes past the future

holds its silent breath, then squeaking I hold its hand. She is tired and I am imperfect.

I want to, but I also what whats for me.
For me.

Gas station, I am in a different citys are where people are. They are and are doing

things to keep themselves and their grandchildren alive. I bet you didn't think

Kaynard had grandchildren. It's important. She also buys bacon and bakes bread for

her family. I was once a party. Hotels have fallen out of the snow globe I held, holding

by a childis hand. It's soft and warm and small I wish.

She never really gets out but walks in, slows down and seeps apparent to the life and

she says in a raspy golden voice, 'How much are these,' while holding up a random

keepsake at a wonderful store. The male shopkeeper is content after a grey day of

customers of all nationalities.

[In France where people have souls, great movies, and popcorn strings of healthy

attitudes and relationship communication coffee.]

He thinks about what he will drink upstairs next to a fire with his perfect wife. Then

to sleep in the night. Now it's slow and peaceful.

She puts it in her pocket. The man felt the bird in his throat. She was not even

noticing. She smiled at the situation, eyes perusing on shiny light reflecting small and

light in the night that she wishes her only once child could be. All of the time passed,

and she is in her gut and on her way bright new day, sunrise of defeat and eagle toes

scraping the green rainbow. Then he in his throat brings up aooeadh softly. She is

aware she oh ha. Smally cutely he smiles, no harm in deeds, and she opens mouth

like juice stick and inside brown interior walls 750$ 10 lira. He says, 'Oh I don't want

to buy,' her last words trailing off into a land of dreams and instant satisfaction and

gratitude; he smiles.

Death comes quickly night cold. Little souvenirs, past is cherished but forgotten and

replaced with misleading cherishered ideas and phonographs and young neighbors.

The past and future fall out the window screens.

She screams hello to say goodby. She sees him hurl his body into the sky; he flies and

flies 'til he is out of sight. She wonders but does not ask, Kaynard, where are you on

this fateful night like any other not lonely speaking [Diana Ross] of another day when

cherished dreams are awakened to seal morning flowers and motor oil and

pedestrians to passerbys of holiday secret emotions? Not too many verbs. That's how

I see it, then that sought out of now where on the door screen seen the glass happy

plays walks out. It's a city with all those people singing about who knows what, but

they know and they don't need no explainin', because their future is truth in their

ideals they share. They bark their dogs, and when it's finished, they start over again,

because they have to; they don't want to cry, but the flag pole shimmers in the

evening dust to whoever for art out there. There they hear their name an' all they

need are ear bells and a kindly sleigh keep them going on merrily in the mountain

drifts of sweet passion for living like a duckling teeter tottering in a moment of

ecstasy piss in a park sometime with Susan on the water she says and the waves mass

sepulchration denies the end over again because that's the way it happend and I want

nothing less than the truth from you,  my dear boy.

That's how it happed, and if you don't believe me, don't read the book,
but if you don't, you won't now.

Let's stop being negative. How was your day yesterday? I saw you. You were far away.

I heard a cab. I am mostly awake during the Day!!! It's the END. its all right