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Jerry McGuire Meditation In New Orleans The cockroaches-at-law impermeable, their briefs interminable, swimming in phrases, passim, guzzlers of hug and handshake while a hissing wind coils itself in the gulf: the gumbo sluggers adumbrate their cozy aphorisms, all the babyfaces melting . . . and hard hard against the so-and-so prevail and long long etc. in the wagonmaster’s yard, woe to us, long of tooth, fuzzy-bottomed, sloppy peckers, countered at court-martial, gutted for o’er-topping . . . blessed the barbecuers, hunky and oblivious, sniff among their droppings, goof off and groove it, derail their doowop if you know what’s good for you, shazam of the mixologists drawn up to full measure . . . the halogens sputter, the holograms wobble, the smugger impertinences of the kids skunked goodnight, oh weary arbiter among the rascals harpoon me a Pimm’s Cup and let’s run this one over . . . shagrug? buckknife? cookiecutter housewife? What’s in it for me? scream the paramecia. What’s in it for me? fizzle the stars. What’s in it for me? gurgles Ponchartrain above us. <- Back to Issue 2/1 |
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All ideas and expressions contained herein represent the opinions of the authors whose names appear on each contribution, not Antioch University Seattle or the staff of KNOCK. Copyright ©2004-2006 by KNOCK, Antioch University Seattle. Trademark law protects Antioch names and logos. |