well the rains came--said hey buddy, the street is a snakeskin...
haven't listened to jane's in a while. but they were on the other day at the bar. on record. and it was warm.
cattle for prodding, the heroes singe their numbers onto the skin and off into a field--a go-go.
here's a picture from a train. there are lots of trains in my life and the rain makes me speak a bit less cryptic. or the tires do that, the wheels and tired. losing air.
so far, so far. and good. here's to the absent trains of archbald--a flat penny on the tracks missing its face, its house for tiny lincoln on the back.