October 10 by The Running Son
☢• Ten T☢n Ted •☢
Trying to think thread-bare thin thoughts (truly thinking twice though), ten ton Toledo Ted, turning toward the tavern table, tediously tongued the tiny tan tofu tid-bits texturing the terracotta tableware. The taste—tangy tripe tire tread—twisted Ted’s tongue, trembling tummy tubes thundering tempestuously. Ted then tossed three tons thrice, tidal, throat twitching, Ted’s torrential tavern tap.
by Jim Aldrich (:
.namaste. -• ö.tH(ink)Mÿstiç •- .namaste.