WALKING ON THIN ICE

a swinging chick - foto by smith

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i have webbed toes. according to American Gods, web-toed folk are twins who killed their twin in womb. maybe i absorbed my twin. that would explain at least one of the extra voices inside my head.
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i’m trying to get back into the flow today. even flow is my goal. i am after all the Son of Flow - mom was Florence (Flo) Smith, a.k.a. Mother Dwarf.
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our 3-item store receipt reads like a line of poetry, or an on-the-road story: Xyloderm, Aspirina & Alcohol - a story of pain, pain and pleasure.
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radio and just about all the boom boxes down here play overwrought melodramatic soap operatic screamed out songs a la Maria Carey. it’s like Meat Loaf had 4 million kids and they all became bad mexican music singers.
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Lady looked at one of my fotos of her and said “I’m a strange looking woman.” i replied “may i say something? you are strange. very strange. a strange woman inside and out. i don’t need to go looking for strange cuz i got strange.”
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she told me i smelled like i was rolled in old autumn leaves.
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i’m operating behind enemy minds.
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behind enemy minds - foto by smith