bloodwords: We will not be undersold!

The bum on the corner holds his sign: ANY AMOUNT WELCOME GOD BLESS. Whether he’s scamming or not he’s superior, he can toss away self-respect or dignity long enough to collect coin, and everything he makes he keeps, no tax. What good is self-respect if it doesn’t pay off?

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Welcome to The world’s shortest love story! I found a matchbook in the street. I ignored all of the matches still intact, noticing only the space where one had been ripped out and used. That was the match I wanted.

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Kayaking. Why?

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Frisbee on the roof, neon orange plastic bleached white by the sun. What does this have to do with winter? It’s over.

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Giant tortoises never write books, or maybe they do, they just procrastinate the first 100 years.

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Why are you surprised by problems? So much of our economy is based on people that never learn.

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I read the obituaries, aka People You Will Never Meet. It’s the only part of the paper promising an end to suffering.

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Only very still fish prefer to swim in formaldehyde.

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I can’t cry.

Tags: Any Amount Welcome, bad poetry, begging for change, Brautigan, bums, BURN, can't cry, dead fish, formaldehyde, Frisbee, God Bless, good poetry, hate, kayaking, love stories, love story, matchbook artists, matchbooks, obits, obituaries, poetry, poetry sucks, rage, sorta poetry, tax-free money, world's shortest, wtf