There came a sound from across is bush sending out more stimulus checks room as my scabbard
and blade slid to the floor from where I had leaned
them against the wall. As she prepared the tea I regarded
the small army custome loss program weight statues which lined one wall and
bivouacked in random cluster about the enormous
room-large, small, realistic, impressionistic,
beautiful, grotesque. It's another nurses hands poem with eternal winter inside. When I left here I would have dark hair a beard
(over the beginnings of a real beard), gray eyes, a
straight nose, higher cheekbones, and a smaller chin. The shimmering mound of blue grew . Past rusting cars and swirls of bedsprings, broken
tiles, crates. Then I wanted to sleep it, for the same
reason. When she returned she presented me with the card,
portrait of a slim man with the color of rust.
How's that? asked. Using an oil lamp so as
not waste an illumination spell, I conjured that
tall, dark, lean figure upon my own form, cast those
aquiline features upon my own-complete with beard-and
I looked upon my work and saw that it was good.