Tuesday, November 13, 2007

Jottings From the Speeding Greyhound

Looking to the east he squinted into the sun and flared his nostrils, causing his mustache to tickle his upper lip.

Last night out of place in a foreign land he watched Rocky IV and pulled wayward hairs from his thigh.

The sun had just begun to define the mountains. From the downward spiraling road clouds could be seen releasing their embrace, melting slowly into the sky.

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