And Did You Get What You Wanted

Write About What You Know, And What Do You Know Better Than Your Own Secrets?

A Man Without Hands Came To The Door To Sell Me A Photograph Of My House. Except For The Chrome Hooks, He Was An Ordinary-looking Man Of Fifty Or So.

Honey, No Offense, But Sometimes I Think I Could Shoot You And Watch You Kick.

I Guess My Writing Has Changed As My Life Has.

I Dressed And Went For A Walk - Determined Not To Return Until I Took In What Nature Had To Offer.