Thoughts of an unsuccessful, never married, late middle-aged, likely terminally ill, American man who recently became an amputee.
Thursday, July 4, 2013
The source of tonight's bad dream
A squirrel, hind legs crushed, tail improbably full, one lane into a four-lane crossing, eyes bright with hope of escape to high trees, a pace sure as a piece of paper in a steady breeze.
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