martin

— “Shoot, inattentive Mickey,
not in bullet points,
in full, not fueled, sentences,
what has Mickey learnt
about conditionals today?”
(You (head)first, ______!
Whirl down the aisle.
Tentative Mickey will fill the blank
with
Mrs English and insert projectile.)
“In that case, it pains me to say,
I am afraid I will have to ask
Mrs Principal for Mickey’s detention — ”
(If in pain, curl up; if in fear, cower.
If shot by an unknown principle aiming at the sky,
aim for the sky, girl, like a wounded bird yay tower!)

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Bobby: A skyscraper that looks like a syringe.
Bob: A syringe that looks like a high building of many stories.
Bobby: Any inside story by an anonymous caller?
Bob: Active component: DENATURED PEOPLE preserved by AC.
Bobby: By air conditioning or by apple cider?
Bob: By axiom of choice, according to Tim: Given any collection of floors . . .

. . . each containing at least one injectee,
it is possible to fill an empty barrel
by arbitrarily choosing one zombie on each floor.

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Sooner will all mosquitoes buzz it quits
at once than Mickey come to believe that
church/temple/mosque-goers do not bite.
“Irreverence!”
Fire-throwing black-n’-yellow striped dragons seldom kite!
“Irrelevance!”
The object which Mickey has in view.
A sluggish Sunday, dragging on —
without urgency or purpose
(the latter rhymes with tortoise)
— at a snail’s pace.
The slug nailed it: Hide not thyself in time of battle! Speak.
The snail peeked out, cracked a smile: Seek and ye shell find!

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Grab a (means one) rocking chair, fresh-off-the-boat-er!, and
listen to How Tim upsets a twisted, but relatively stable, situation.
Before Tim breaks the cycle by burning your boats with a colorless,
flammable liquid that folds nothing like a cheap lawn chair:
Last chance to get in the same boat with five like boaters, row away
and out in the open sea or whatever detergent floats your boat.
To those sitting in two chairs:
you missed the boat(‘s deck the chairs are nailed to).
Want (water)proof or time to let that sink in?

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— “For me, it’s a S-NAP
to rend my own
‘We have some LEFT-overs’
and ‘I’ll be RIGHT back’
hemispheres asunder.”

“I for one know, Brian, how
any breakfast is put together.
I can take it apart,
play with it,
customize it,
re-assemble it . . .”

(Brian is not h y p n o t i z a b l e.)
“B r i a n?! — Oh, S(outhern)N(orthern)A(ction)P(otential)!”
Side note: acute pain.
On the flip side, the waitress was dead right about:
the true north (left in the cold),
day-n’-night (equal in length at the equator).

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Jay, the only member of the inner circle, is watching
the incessant flow of t-raff-ic in one direction.
Modern roundabouts, like this one, reduce
the likelihood and severity of collisions
with Jay greatly.
Four collision points on a roundabout
versus thirty-two at a traditional intersection.
Case in point:
Definitely, not a one (un)like-minded infant around.
The acrylic round convex mirror’s terrific, not-iffy riff has Jay’s back!

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Jackson: One cannot get blood from it. But with . . . By the way,
who is, certainly not Jackson, without sin to cast the first stone?
Johnson: There is a dossier way to write off one’s losses: Let not
Johnson move into a situation that has gone badly (bloody).
Jimson: Bones in a bundle. Unbreakable. Like paintbrushes.
CRACK. Jimson would not go a bundle on this. Brush off pain.

Three white T-shirts abstaining from
street fights. Punchy
EASY, THERE!
in screaming ice-cream colors.
Easier re(a)d than bloodstain-free.

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Bob: The self is to the body
as the cash is to the ATM.
To balance is to poise
in flux vis-à-vis in constant change.
Bobby: To deposit is to to withdraw
as to depoetize is to to render prozac?
Bob: To withdraw is to retreat from objective reality in prosaic manner. Like the pigeon — Bobby: That rose the other day
from the ashes of the pale yellow rose mallow
in front of the Sonoran Desert shopping mall!

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