"Let them eat ice cream. The middle class." or "You want walnuts on that, general?"

Yesterday.

It seemed my boogaloo was here to stay.

And yet it can so easily flit away.

I had my eyes peeled, into this and that generally by way of the perspective, horizon line and all that, with the vanishing point being the Chesco workshop building and parking lot.  Then, out of nowhere, the buttocks of a woman made a kind of graceful curve, a kind of natural fluting, which made me think about running a few rows of summer corn.

I had my eyes peeled, and it was like, "that's the world, out there!"  I was puffing smoke out the window, too, but not as much as usual, by chance.  And I was thinking of the "living force", like the experience of life, and then set that in a kind of opposition to the "best laid plans of country club owners".  Is there fluidity?

Are your emotions dictated by the amount of pressure that is applied when you get stepped on?  I say that, in opposition to a design, that is, a design versus a looser kind of running, as of just having an off the cuff go at life.  Whereas yesterday went according to agenda, but there were some other things, nervous redheaded girls and stuff, stuff you have to keep an eye on.  Natural comfort of a man's shoulder, and all that, set her to right.  Can't run her away even if you chased her with a gun; hell, she'd just come back, and just as set in her way as before.

She'd just come back.

I have a book(more than one, actually) that pulls me away from this world, and it firmly applies braking pressure to that redhead, her screaming for all the world, to the moon and back, to have all the diamonds, the gold, and even start collecting the rust, too.  Then, with charms taking a back seat she settles into a life of growing her own squash in a two-bedroom house, feeding a neighborhood stray cat(having bought it food in one of her own rare grocery trips), and the world nary a step closer to being all hers than it was when she was something else, like an alchemist's trick that didn't bring it off in a better way, no better way than making her give up and just wait between sleeping sessions.

Just a prisoner, but not even bothering to mark-off time because she doesn't know how long the sentence will last.

The world for a smiling face.