There by the train station I met my guardian angel. Freaked out by a burning bush that emanated tear drops of night and day, Mr V jumped across and beyond to put the heat aside.
Kayle spoke a few days ago and said, ‘‘ Live on free Bradley’’ To which I understood very well.
There standing by the railroad tracks, a skinny Richard Wagner whispered in the wind while gesturing like a aristocrate, ‘‘ Camera!’’
Huh! So this is him, Yes of course, I took my pen sword out my pocket, and pisted him, ‘‘ Friend, 35 mm’’
He jugled quickly and repied, ‘‘ Forgive me’’
His lightness of being surprised me, or perhaps his grey hair and little moustache made him such a warm kind hearted spirit.
I walked line in line with trying to figure out his movement.
He yelled, ‘‘ Oh! It’s YOU isn’t it?’’ And then laughed out of loud. Maybe his first smile since Bill Clinton was still in Office.
I the Julian G of the hot garbage mess of Agadir, shamefull and lost.
I believe he said, ‘‘ THIEF!’’
How dare YOU?
To which I should’ve said, ‘‘ This is how it works’’
Ti’ll we meet again, that was the tune that night.
DO NOT BE A MOVIE DIRECTIOR
Roomate?
Tuna fish, roasted rice with bread and fried French fries?
That’s a good meal THANK you very much.