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She keeps secrets even from herself. Retraction remains high art on the continent of incontinence where upstarts wearing mangy topcoats lurk and weasel their way out of op cit arrangements of insolvency. Pretend she tells her acolytes you are impervious to strained nature about to be cuffed and hauled off to a curtain call in the high desert sprawl of winter wanderlust. These days, it's iffy in my heart a whirligig post-cuke sandwich framed freehand by someone else. Parmenides kept winter afloat in docile minds of a remote electorate replete with expectorant to refute freestyle phlegm. Speaking of which, flimflam flamboyancy resumes again at three. Be there or be. A squealing pig on the thresh- of seeming once and for all out of place kicks in the cement wall near the arboretum. Where gum trees with a headlock on deep broad roots lurk and watch the leaves glow high.