Herbie Mann Comin' Home

Friday, May 23, 2008

Warm Terrace

A couple of degrees Fahrenheit one way or the other and I get cranky: heat should be stable as interest rates.

The vine and the friar. Port is to the lips of the fat monk what butterscotch is to a sweet tooth.

We, dumbly in suzerainty to thin sheets of cloud and the bee-flight of molecules.

Tart dentifrice whites, parched oak Zinfandels, Monster Reds with two heads, one hundred eyes.

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