quick vicinity

the chairs are wood the tables are wood not quite it's dark matt laminated pecan pine cedar it's wood anyway right height enough volume not quite lazy but it is and it's country under high ceiling don't bother the casting pasted wall vine shapes everything's brown i guess. there's a dwelling over at the south meridian that tells the time of day and in the morning towards midday it's foggy chill you see. busted oven roasted cocoa selfish lights in sephia gammas the music twitches a bit if only on saturday afternoons when you hang around tyrell and armstrong in the long play forget it's stewart singing cozy vents. moist grass dried tree barks sniffin those mill bags just around the dot you won't wait epochs. so the next time 10AM off the cot wit sleepy orbitals harassed docks in the shab rag flip flops sticky skin screamin shower gyrating temples frozen stale saliva of turnip nics in the plump buds, the steam mushroom linguine in white creamy snotty spiked rosemary and olive thyme freak the basil topped cilantros throwin out paprikas fucked up nutmegs down oregano in torino, get the plaid brew go i found a new home. capers at bay dumping chili peas in the crowded leaf.