lip smack cracker jack whipped rack, creamed stack of pancakes,
foiled coffee tin, hat, spat against city walls of high times
west
flavor country is a far cease from black tar lunged up from money
planted dreams spread fires, spat.
oil lights the night fire stack, bill-o brill-o pad, soapy fresh but rough
like stolen wool.
frambrosia rich sat seagulls full of alka seltzer, pop, whimsical whims of
shimmed tires, sped one quarter on track, air dropped, and true spoke.
bicycles.
but where are we on the map? alto sax jazz drop, written words on the silver screened version of the pink panther gone supernova, slink.
rhythm and blues are only part of the spectrum, to spec, see, view, guage like wire a.w.g 22 fires, DC current or project, isle of man, the place to see wide
panorama glam shirts, hawaii five o rings on the shuttle, boom. challenge this, skyscrapers went too - into the ground, frowned, sticky and planned, in a noisy town - who knew - but the bay l.g.a. enroute from somewhere old.
but anyway - quotients find the best of the divide, and that sums up the morning, equal is not as good as sugar, but sub-a-tomic traction is like a dungeon of linear accelerated pants. oh. maybe there was a lizard. or a moat. oh yes - there was pi and a pentagram, or was it a stack of houses and graham crackers - maybe her name was candy - or was it cinnemon. and where did the fruit rollups get to?
digression is like regressing twice as fast, and seperating the yolk from the gooey part.
how to finish - maybe with a language, as in finn. the fjords. fords. driven, like wildfire, or the U.S. postal service with buggies.
to bid a dew is a bet on the rain. if you make it sale, its a mountain, soda pop tooth rotter.
and don't get me started on the pelicans.
/ˌsæn fɹənˈsɪskoʊ/,
https://anchor.fm/aquaqlabs/episodes/worthwhile-snackery-eecilf