a snow of butterflies : texticity

by Tomorrow's Man

September 13, 2003

You can't stop me, Mister. Burn it down, burn it all down, you can't stop me. I'm here. To stay. Right here. Eyes open, pants maybe. I got coffee. And cards. I can solitaire til sundown, tarot til Tuesday, shuffle these decks til December.

And I don't need pants. No, sir -- I don't even need pants.

You're deal.

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