Sunday, February 6, 2011

NO ONE SAYS I'M MACGUYVER

Unromantic muffin
the only evidence that they’d been here at all, the couple dating on the porch, are the crumbs

What the ocean thinks your ankles wading into it are up to
garnering licorice

The Swiss precision of a broken jewel
star screw protests

Godzilla torture
the sounds coming from the tree bark

Overestimate
Overstuffed

Cutting down
wallflowers had been the most impressive sight of my entire high school career 

Imprinted in my imagination and superimposed on my own ego and perception of self
might I be a dead ringer for MacGuyver?

Survives microwave oven
frog

So the cure for indecision out on the street in front of the movie house they say might be leeches
most influential magnetic hypnotic marquees

Simulating carpel tunnel
plastic dinosaur bones arranged on the Persian rug

Laser opens your stinkpores
“For at this beauty parlor our punishment for metrosexuals is to put them on beanbags with a tiny leak in the side popping tiny styrofoam pellets at an excruciatingly slow rate gradually spilling across the floor in what these, our loathsome clients believe to be a manifestation of their own creeping grandmothers”

Manic-depressive
the juice or syrup hardest to shake out of a blender

Hecklers
use egg timers to plan, prioritize, and coordinate

Birdbath marathon
on dating sites make sure your profile includes the phrase: “In the morning you will wake up and find a wet rag on the bedroom floor and will pick it up and will discover that this is me ‘grumpy in the morning!’.”

Obscure unrated book on Amazon about tying garter belts into knots
Tangled up in the sweet compassionate gaze of the old steel mill’s septuagenarian Chinese owner

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