Wi Fi whore, I go
where there’s access, drinking bad
java just to surf.
Coffee house office
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Wi Fi whore, I go
where there’s access, drinking bad
java just to surf.
When the going gets
tough, I end up sleeping on
the couch, fully clothed.
Turn the clocks back next
week? I could use that extra
hour of sleep right now…
Decorations for
Halloween still not up. Life
seems scary enough.
The review called her
‘fetching’ – wrapped in bandages,
convulsing, bleeding.
Suddenly it’s too
chilly to wear a tshirt.
Autumn’s in the house.
My eyeballs feel like
they’re wearing socks – thick, itchy,
uncomfortable.
Where would CNN
be if breaking news ceased,
nothing to report?
Back east, the skies are
clearing, blue unending. Cool
dampness. Leaves changing.
Miraculous. Fire
missed Anne’s house. She’s back at home.
The worst thing now – smoke.