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Screwed August,
season of invisible storms and
sticky stinky sludge the crows are laughing again because my drain pipe is blocked and I can’t get a plumber to service me. They’re afraid I’ll steal something if I touch their tool. Maybe it’s the extra tissue in my chest and drawers that occasionally spills content unashamed but refuses to be a trash can except during the rare times my batteries are low and I think I’ve found the right fit for my socket. But then, afterwards, he needs an upgrade. Tells me I’m obsolete because I don’t come with remote control. Terrified of my power button, he leaves shouting “stop this crazy thing! Annette Sugden ver. 2 Sept/2006
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