low-fidelity, sometimes its just the moment, and all the talent, skill, flair, style, ....the stuff you can't steal, cause really what value does it have, now, not much.   and lo-fi, I guess its just peering into a heart, pulling the skin open with the fingers, messy.

                                                 got the window table at Tired Hands

                                                 the beater, its strong,... good bike

drank some beers, ate a bit.
and I raced George home, in the dark, down neighborhood streets, not sure where the curbs where.  He was moving on his bike, and I had the beater reved up, keeping up.  The growler, nestled in a insulated lunch bag, asleep through it all in the front basket.

maybe this is what life is about

shims beneath three of your legs, but no one notices, cause your functional

I'll go see the Gudied by Voices at the Troc.

cheers, d.

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