If the coffee is not hot, this will not do. One spoon. One plate and the moon. It's the heart of February you hear purring with jackhammers in the morning. It's the heart of the window that bellows as you look through it and chuck little candy coated hearts with letters on them into the street below. Here you go lovers of sweet-things, you say. Fat pigeons scatter into the air.
It's the middle of a month and whiskers dust the legs of things. A single person wakes up in the night to drink glass after glass of water in the dark. The tap is complicit. The thief is the cat itself, sitting wide-eyed on the sill, un-bothered.
Sew much catatonic-after. glade-wrung absolute transom. positive blight weathern. volume mescal-laughter. force. quick hundred-dollar yuma. jabloney ciphon-pants. cat nix cat. eye transistor. drowse machine forgery. clampit offer. heart heart pigeon. toothsome hunger. the brushing down-sill. the pad of floorboard. nuance. voicebox rattle static.
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