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sweather weather:vi

v: i had guts; he had pulp fiction
nine days before halloween i decided to go off to a pumpkin patch and stand guard for ‘the great pumpkin’. i wanted to see him; i heard he granted wishes and that he was a boy and maybe he would listen to me and tell me what to do around them, because honestly, i had no clue.
unless it was you; but no, it wasn’t you, not anymore, not tonight, this evening it was the GREAT in the patch of intertwining stalks that lets leaves kiss each other at a distance.
my blanket was sprawled, and of course, my legs were crisscrossed, Indian style, maybe Atahensic will show mercy on me tonight. i threw away my cigarettes after i sprinkled the ashes on the ground, so maybe something could grow after i left, no mess of course, but still, mercy please.
an hour or two (or three, or four), he finally came; there he was in clothing i won’t describe, since it does not matter, it does not matter and a face like Gabriel the-
it does not matter

i stood there, an idiot while he quizzed me for my wish and i stuttered and stammered and really i was quite inaudible. maybe that’s why he misunderstood me so- he couldn’t hear me.

i asked for you, but i got him instead; a god from heaven trying to make heracles and piss off his girl hera. it was a mistake, you have to believe me, i’m not going to lie, i’m not going to lie.
i waited for a wish in a pumpkin patch and i got one; now i’m knitting little linus blankets in the back corner of the room.
and yet you’re still here; i don’t understand why, you shouldn’t be even though i’m sorry.

you’ve agreed with me on that, i am sorry, and pathetic and lost the blessing of your oh precious mother with my cigarette smoke and painted cat’s eyes.
it was nine days before halloween; i made a wish, and yes it failed, but maybe it worked too? i cried for you never to leave, and knowing you, now you won’t.




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