a.i is already a failure to me: i write one thing, html misspells what i write, dumb robotics ahoy!*

at the cashiers',                                                       ­     hot topic...
a burning toothpick that illuminated the woods:
headmaster in some school extends his jurisdiction
from children to parents, wants the mothers
to be less sloppy dressed in the english casual: pyjamas.
two cashiers debate, i take my usual three beers and
a bottle of scotch for a walk (i drink the scotch at home),
i side with the liberals... wear the ****
you want... the other side can't decide a line of argument,
conversation turns to my frost bitten hands,
nasty winter mosquitoes bit my hands all red...
i say it's not too bad... she takes them into her hands,
warms them up, she's older than my mother,
but i still would... given girls my age are *******
the legs of hugh hefner for the retirement pay-cheque
and prior to a *****-spread photoshoot... i walk out patting
the head  of a stranger's dog waiting for the hands that
drop food onto the plate and keep the leash stern...
your typical evening at a supermarket.