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There is a woman at the top of the stairs.
Her brunette hair up in a bun, tiny tendrils caress her slender neck. Her smile is a beaming light, her almond brown eyes have found yours.
I climb the stairs, others evaporate away into nothing. All attention fixed on her.
I cross paths with a glorious light.
Hurry up and slow down, don’t act a fool, don’t trip on the stairs, hold on to the railing, get a grip.
It’s too late.
All I could manage was a sheepish, “Hello.”
She smiled ever so brightly, and said, “Hi.”
Her smell a flower garden of repast, her hair a raven’s nest of alluvial wisps.
The moon raising her up to the highest.
The Selenite orb enshrines the glowing city in a whimsical beauty. I walk into the future.
The angels are alive and well.
There Is A Woman At The Top Of The Stairs.
where is the lol button?
What about the jobs though? Those are good paying, middle-class jobs, making missiles. Real craftsmanship goes into those missiles, and they have a very nice cafeteria there at the plant. But you seem to want that system to collapse. Shouldn’t we instead continue to prop the dying system up by the armpits and get it some sports-drink thing? To refresh itself?
two buckets of pork fat and some Gatorade! STAT!