he was, just another someone

he walked cleanly into a one two punch – was backed into a three four close the door and then was refusing the posture of bending and gathering five six pick up sticks…

he was not a man with an affinity to numbers…but rather was a man pleased to plea…to make arguments and trade them like seeds with the wind…

it was one two where is old fathers shoes, and three four through memories doors and five six the chipping of sticks away from the bedlam of worrying far too much…

he was not a man who had an accounting firm to tally a better direction down a freeway towards let’s make merry, or even the tra la la land of the lazy…


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