This isn't what I have to do.
Two slats of wood in a gentle-bowed V
Banded and padded higher
Something of a plunger
Something of a stomp box would be for something of an explosion
Clock in and clock and clock my way forward
Never mind 37 more years, worry yourself on a day
Rearrange it all into a fad haircut
Bring A to B to receive your hidden message
Use an iron or a hair dryer or outright burn it
Sixty years later
We're saving daylight here.
To report: marketing tips, portraits, the future of this and that, a director is lost, a photographer is lost, a month left, stock prices, noise, silence, caves, 3D, accents, gas prices, food, post-its, more portraits, covers, landscapes, laughing.