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November 9, 2006

Ted: J.L.S. Lives

'Perfect speed is being there.'

Murry looked through the window of the steel horse of the prairie, wishing he was already in the city.

The Red men came at the caress of night's bosom, coyotes stalking.

The cat paws of mist rolled over, a protective blanket around the womb or tomb where Murry cowered.

Wishing, wishing, wishing...a frog with wings.

Sudden buttery daylight poured over his eyes.

San Francisco: the bay a whore with beggers suckling her tits, opened her arms to him as he made good his escape.

The train was a ghost, the octopus of tracks long gone.

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Thanks to T.S. , JSB, and FN.

Posted by: Ted Bronson at November 9, 2006 6:39 PM · Permalink

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