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Riding along in a jetliner. Stewardess. Blue. I got my wings and I can fly away. I didn’t know Roxie then. 1968. Catch me if you can. The whirl of the police siren; pulled us over. Train tracks, I recall. Ah, memories of East Texas . . .

Memories are even black and white. Individual shots, like photographs. Christmas morning. I still have Teddy, but he was not velveteen.

Looking back and asking myself
‘What the hell’d you let them break your spirit for?’

Michelle Shocked, Memories of East Texas

Sometimes I Ocean Spray, I suppose. Derailed. Blue Comet. An eppysoda. Moved the dang dinosaur, no one can see it, but it racks up! Buttercups and honeysuckle at the Tourisons. The oyster cracker lady . . . it’s there buried among 70,000, if you care. Got something else on my mind.

Shunned. Carnivals, weekends, interviews. Excuses. Always innocent. Bitter to a fault. History builds behavior change. She keeps me balanced; forest, trees. Pushing on, starting to feel the clock. Worries bollix. We hum along efficiently in this car, thankyouverymuch.

Same thing in Woodley Park. Need new attraction. So much. Let’s take a ride. Spontaneity. Difficult. Only crackers. Bathroom. Different interests. Nevermind. Jamaica come she will, with all due respect to Edie’s man.

A hunting we will go . . . shoot.

Also blogged on this date . . .

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