'You were incredibly indecorous to me; like some Walter Winchell effigy made from the coarsest stone, I stared back, merely wondering where you'd be next. In the alley, the old sieve was still leaking bad water, the oily sheen atop it ran forth towards the gutter. I thought of filth and dirt in the very same way: as something horrid, leaking from my mind. Over you, or not.'
posted by gary j. introne @ 7:18 PM
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