Faulty service provider maps weigh us in through the coordinates of lost and found farm supply catalogs, rosters, and demon chalks. Eisenhower is there for us, nevertheless; and it's not his petroleum thick fault. So there are no culpables. Mmm, no, not really. It stretches all the same; through landscapes named after starches, patagonians, camels, silos. Our hosts are the best... can't imagine yours or the ones I once fell for. Home can be funny that way-- seems to exist simultaneous and also kind of soapy. Or mebby like an ivory, all leathered, plastered in fists and mountain youth, but not that bad really, once you get the nuance down and the waterfalls up.
(eyes used for tooth support)
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