too late to be coherent like a fuzzy eyed slack jawed walrus spewing forth soup through sticky whiskers as they brush the dusty floor. the bane of my existance! shrieks the startled crow as it pokes itself in the glaring eye of the bright moonbeams pulsing to the rhythm of the pounding thumping bumping cars as they fly by on quiet streets with sidewalks oh so wide … stretching on into the late night … glaring white under the beams of the sedentary watchful eye of the man in the moon.
