give me back my oil-stained coveralls.
persnickety poet type: “Sometimes, when this flawed world seems unusually hateful, I wonder...
“Sometimes, when this flawed world seems unusually hateful, I wonder whether there might be some other place, far away, where I should have been. I cannot seem to imagine what that place might be, and if I can’t even imagine it then how can I believe it exists? And yet the universe is so very,…
