A Plea for Perpendicular

Our potential, when plotted on a graph, yields a pair of parallel lines, beautiful and statuesque, yet bittersweet in their fate, destined to touch but not once in all of eternity. If there is even the slightest hope that we shall one day be together, one of us must bend.

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Last One on the Train

Terri almost dropped her iPod on the floor when she woke up on the train after missing her stop and when she looked around the compartment, the only person she saw was a skinny man in a dark suit who was sitting in a seat across from her waving.

Terri would have waved back but the man was covered in blood and his severed head was resting in his lap.

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As the small girl of four asked me to leave, I cried for home. The girl disappeared without a trace; I was left alone, although, there was never anyone by my side.

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Stangers and Darkness

After ingesting a cheap bottle of wine, I met her in the darkened alley and gave her twenty bucks, not caring about her identity or appearance. We made love behind a dumpster and since that night, darkness always tansmits the urge for an erection through my nerves even though the permanently placed catheter never responds.

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a Unixex

It was as hard to read him as a big jelly fish, one could only guess which of the two bathrooms he would choose to enter.

I only call him ‘he’ because of no lipstick and had short hair, loose jeans, glasses and tennis shoes, dressed all in blue, almost 30, neat and relaxed, he walked talked and was the shape of a unixex, don’t ask the configureation of that, but it’s neither an X or an O type.

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The Human Realization

Time is a teeming river of mud and we fish in it while trying to breathe in a flavor of soil.

The human realization is that the prey we seek in the water is really all we have evewr been, we may someday realize we all have fins and gasp for oxygen, we are so far just the best swimmers, that can digest all our relative enemies.

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“Where are you going?”, says the comedian. “To get a drink so you’ll be funnier”, says the audience.

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In the Lenin Hat

He got his Lenin hat in Moscow, his jeans at hospice downtown and his duck shirt off a clothes-line where the woman hung out a medium men’s with long sleeves to cover the tattoos, so he could get into the Christian Free Feed at the Methodist Church on Francis Bacon Street.
If he couldn’t bum 5 bucks by 6 this afternoon he would have to go to the holy-rollers church, and find a warm coat with fur inside, and he knew the closet where they hung while they danced, screamed and spoke in foreign languages, claiming to be the Holy Ghost, all the cold damn night.

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Lester was the guy who talks loud in public bathrooms, pretending he’s on a cell phone, “Yes it’s me, in London all week banging the blond bitch.
Hay I’m offerin 2 mil for the land, farm included, take it or leave it you mother-f, and you better not hang up.

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