Wednesday, December 23, 2015


Parasailing, high, above the water.
Gotta beat the sun past the horizon.
Spent all of my weight on the lotter-
-y, stained brown by the land of the Mayans.
Lay in the sand, Montezuma's revenge.
Nowhere to move, couldn't possibly stand.
Been making peace since the time of Stonehenge.
Slowly eat what we take from the land.
Survey the scenery take it all in.
Jump off the cliff, you'll swim the Atlantic.
Surely, a life can't be devoid of sin.
Better, a life catering to a whim.
Schrodinger's says, craps or not 'til they're rolled.

Cash and green felt could yield untold fortune.

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