seems like she is always going back to work.
the washing machine is singing at me, still don't know how to turn it off though.
The snow outside is shoveled away again, it's marvelous.
The driveway is clear.
I wonder what she will teach her class tomorrow,
How to tell time or to eat with a fork.
The rudimentary has become very alluring of late,
alluring like sexy, sexy to be intwined in your on mission of discovery,
of self, only to find that black is much the same is white.
Which lips for me?
Yours? Maybe. Or not, you get a say of course, and I wouldn't accuse you of malignancy
because today mum is teaching geography, biology the morra.
history does make for more tender roots - in our own history, which perhaps we fabricate according to our needs.
History is written by the victors, and by those with an unknowledgeable audience.
I likes very much...X
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