Cubicle Shoes Cubicle shoes, put them on loudly. The readers and keepers and teachers have an eerie disconnection hang-up, taken in by the easy chair broad- cast on cemetery astroturf in the face of the ottoman bookcases. Put them cubicle shoes on, stomp around proudly and loudly. There are no listeners in the present sense of incommunicato illusion in cog nito it seems in the face drag racing with pheasant hunters on a cold war trip, slip slip of the onion skin, drip drip of the caustic faucet. The cubicle shoes havent much to suffer and offer on the white-dotted trail in the way pity kills the small chit-chat with pity. Some cubicle shoes are found in niches found by ephemeral greetings on the phone. Some are doomed to take the big leap town to town in the way intellectual property is declared to be whittled poems and conversations pinched between the status and the quo of rag mags on a rack.
Posted on: Sat, 19 Oct 2013 06:27:17 +0000
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