No, Pickles
I had a dream last night and it wasn't about all of God's little children playing together in a field of daisies, more than that I cannot say. Of course I could say more, and have, but won't.

It doesn't look like the snow is ever going to melt.

I can't think of anything but a fried oyster po-boy, dressed, no pickles. I'm not talking about Pickles, the Santa Killer. I could talk about that but let's just leave it alone. But damn, poor Santa, eviscerated in the LES.

And some garlic mashed potatoes.

And a pickled string bean in a tasty Bloody Mary.

My mom's brownies.

Highway Dreams.

Raining bullets on New Year's Eve.

And all this sweet exhilarating uncertainty has got me groovin.
- jimlouis 12-19-2003 3:37 pm




add a comment to this page:

Your post will be captioned "posted by anonymous,"
or you may enter a guest username below:


Line breaks work. HTML tags will be stripped.