how much
stan looked at his feet
and waited for a price
the easter bunny was
making a few calculations
touching his side pocket
and calling santa for a
good deal on the latest
tongue pill
cell phones rung across the town
ringing the small dark
rooms that had sheets for window shades
second hand sofas and
women lying face down snoring
with little to no teeth
200
but make it 190 just because i love you
inside ronalds brain was a race to the
finish line
all his mothers hopes were lined up and the starting gun was raised to the air
the skeletal nike shoed jukies leaned forward and waited for the shot
to run
and run and run and run
deer parks have petting zoos where you can actually touch an animal
sigred was impatient and did laundry while ordering tickets to the latest
local fair
or garage sale where she would point at the sun and and then pocket an item that looked like she could sell it
or maybe fuck it
those last days of all who were involved transpired on a wednesday
a summer eve
a temperature of 80 and sweat
a tree wraps a car nicely
it sees it coming and waits for the metal to surround its old oak history
it absorbs the steaming fumes from the engine and grows stronger
from the blood that leaks from the  floorboards
ronald looked at the windshield
a small patch of broken glass was an imprint of his impact
love is a thing that he missed most when the gas tank lit
love was
leaving.

dot.

beatrice was holding up
the line
her groceries
were cakes buns and candy
the conveyor belt
conveniently divided all the
groceries into little tiny stacks
behind her
a bottle of peanut oil
tow bags of popcorn and
and some summer squash
josh was tapping his finger against his credit card while beatrice maneuvered her electric shopping cart toward the credit scanner
she had lost some hair over the years
and her body was now a doughy miserable mess
who demanded others help
her lift her into her car
the line was getting stacked
most reading the magazines
that said clint eastwood
was
dead
each parcel of food was separated by a square piece of
plastic
that
had a printed market slogan
how man buttons to push to get food into your trunk and glide home to eat
the man behind her wore a black leather jacket
and
fumed at her withering body
he had a small bottle of olive oil and 2 green onions
tomorrow
she would be dead and be rolled to a room where they would take all her blood and flush it down the drain
debt or credit
the pancaked faced counter girl asked.

dot.

Oooh oooh! Pick me! Pick me! You're prolly coming here in April ain't ya?

Being a curmudgeon, I think you're old enough to realize that the word is "probably," not "prolly."

Not so much here on RP, but on the radio plus here, I am hearing a lot of both Adele and Florence and The Machine. Which I think is a good thing: it is great to hear strong singing voices (regardless of gender) becoming so popular. Beats so much of the carp that passes for music anymore. Like that Katy Perry schlock: I get it, it's an act, all put on for marketing, but still. I prolly sound like an old curmudgeon (imagine that...), but that kind of music has always bugged me, it's not just the current crop of hacks.

Point is, it's great to hear some strong voices belting out some real singing.

these are the early games
the wanna quit when the
going is good
the simple blasphemy to a
treason that will never be
tried
adam
collected worms
in a box of soil that was open plastic
so he could watch them mate
and squirm in the small
space he had enclosed them in
hot dog and rice were burning when
the telephone rang
his cheap pan of teflon
layered an undercoating of
ash on his dinner
caller id was her again
that bitch who had a
day habit of calling random numbers
to see who would answer
sometimes he would pick up and go through the pause an gasps at her forward questions
she was insistent on details
height
weight
nose hair
he picked up
and waited
her name was salem
and on this night she preferred to make a personal visit
she arrived late
wearing smeared makeup and shoes that were pointed and black
sit down she said
so we can access your true purpose
her hair was like a red fire and her toenails in the open shoes she wore were a pink coated gloss
i just have on more question she asked
her
pencil barley having lead to record all the answers
when you stole that ring when you were nine
and your mother backed your story that you
didnt
was that the day your life ended
if you could silence for eternity and small overhead fans could circle and refresh the room until christ was proven a drug dealer you might answer that
yes
adam replied.

dot.

these are subtle days
they make oysters wink in brown
tides
they make mothers
empty lunch boxes
vacuum dusty corners
and wait for their men
to arrive home
alcohol
breath
back pocket of green bills
from the day of
toiling
the ground
the grass of lawns that need toiling
underneath her eyeshadow is a color they dont have on display
a brutish back eye
an upper brow bleeding scar
tupperware is a plastic that keeps the food safe from ammonia
the day is longer than one is willing to admit
amy is willing to
walk her daughter to the
bus
if only she
can
find
her
lunch.

dot.

Walking Dead started last night. (A big letdown for me btw).

Huh.  Now it's showing up on the RAFT. 
 
Edit:  And the link's back on the Forum page.  I hope this isn't a sign of the zombie apocalypse...or server crashage.

Noticed that. It fell off he RAFT not sure if that triggered the fall off the Forum page too

Huh.  Now it's showing up on the RAFT. 
 
Edit:  And the link's back on the Forum page.  I hope this isn't a sign of the zombie apocalypse...or server crashage.

Well, this is weird...