You'll never know if you don't know now
I guess I still agree with myself though a night or two of insomnia raises the possibility that "they" are using the VCR in the bedroom to film themselves in order to review the action later or to leave as a clue for the police in case some red-blooded s & m gets out of hand and the survivor is the killer and the victim is the voyeur. OK, your job is to make a sentence using the words prison, police car, luck, nails, and the color of her nail polish in the same anti-nostalgic sentence. But you know me, Alice. I always liked being the lost of the Mohicans.
posted by Molly Arden at 11:21 AM
3 Comments:
Wearing “Candles on the Burned Cake” nail polish and her bare back locked down inside a hot, running police car; for her, luck would be not going to prison and not faling in love – and they’d both require their own set of hassles.
Not the lost of the Mohicans, but rather the hero on the white horse, arriving just when you're needed host. Whereci Beaucoup?
When your mother went to prison, police cars became your friends--one big hammer and a handful of shiny nails framed by your chinese red dickbeaters...your version of luck.
Just my luck: the prison break was a poem in a police car in which your black hammer met my long nails and scarlet was their color.
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