Wednesday, October 21, 2015


Tumbling tumbleweeds tumble past, as tumbleweeds do. I chase them but my little legs get tired. Some day I will exchange these little legs for giant long flamingo legs, and I will have pink feathers and a nice curvy beak, that is to say, some day I will be a flamingo. Men and women and children and dogs and possums and cicadas will tremble and melt at the sight of my majesty. I will not be haughty, but graceful and forever mysterious.

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