Chronic Doorman

Jun 25, 2010 16:03

I am the chronic doorman lapchild that makes success as improbable as trout lice. I walk into the room like a greasy high five and people immediately want to wash their hands. They have their beard theory ready as I throw the net of my calendar out over the month, fishing for dates. I cut a fine figure dressed in my barbeque smock and carrying ( Read more... )

duncan, wish, poem, me, bones, poetry, love

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Comments 4

jeff2001 June 26 2010, 05:31:50 UTC
Real brilliance in here!

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skonen_blades June 26 2010, 09:23:15 UTC
Swert. Thank you VERY much.

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superjill June 27 2010, 00:36:47 UTC
I would like to replace all my bones with wishbones.

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skonen_blades June 27 2010, 06:07:24 UTC
Amen to that. They are fragile though.

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