passing by truckloads of producers and asteroid-habitat farmers

still apportioning, in the frosty vein of in-acting curvature dominance distractors
like moth creating sub-pretending straits on the narrow vision of conquest
walking just by to get to the other side of the fountain like sane street development
rivers that concrete cannot intimidate drive plummeting finches into the waves
Texas roaming fire hydrants spy on the lone pedestrian walkways where St. Peter lost his legs,
his ocean caffeine satire delved into the wild on the pausing guitar picking up the lost street
to find the lost keys to heaven’s hidden closet that all the angels keep their winter coats in
all wanting to look their best for the director in this single shot framing the elephant snow