I pit stop in less crestfallen metropolis, pit-falling piecemeal.
Limo door wags: an oil-globbed grebe wing, a tainted statue of preen. The decayed slunk Thinktank Queen (skunkvest minkscarf) tongues my arrowed ears.
At the infirm firm, I quiver as I relinquish my quiver. Lingering images of Pigcity greased my acceptance. Also, to champion choice, exercise the unexpected, popular pick to submit.
by Sean Ulman of Newark
While I’m hardly getting in ground floor, I dig my literal station - ground floor, beaming doorman (sunbeam balm on breeze chapped cheeks). They’re dubbing me 2nd assistant to the 2nd CEO’s 2nd assistant. A title, a little false sense of entitlement somehow portends enlightenment. Why drag witnessed pestilent futures to the forest when the good wood rests utopian in my pastel-perked past?
by Sean Ulman of Newark
Never mind swine any sordid sidewalk slime can slink back. I’ll greet many ‘good day’ daily. My transfer hedges on chance: instruct instinct to smile to strangers, pave way to curb cultures’ curdling, flip fallow friendship to fertile.
Salvage. Sway from $$Savagery.
Salve.
Save…?
by Sean Ulman of Newark
Prone to pick a bone with cold, a painter skied Exit Glacier Rd. Sketched flip book stills. Blue bulk --> sapphire chaff atop stony palisades sparkling like satellites in Harding Icefied’s pallid abyss.
Crust rusted. Dodging slush-schussing, he sprint-skied home in Tee & wet dry shell, pushing in mush: a vernal layer alpine skiers call corn. Dreaming endless winter & southern springs, he walked in slop the last 2km.
by Sean Ulman of Newark
