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Pursuant to the hour on the clock, it is bed time…two hours past bed time…but my tinnitus of thoughts is keeping me here; spilling words onto the page of your life.

What…you want me to go away…because if I write you feel compelled to read?

Remember that line Tina Turner delivered to Mel Gibson at the end of one of the apocalyptic movies…”Beyond Thunderdome” I believe… “What a pair we make Raggedy Man”…nuff said.

A writer needs readers and a reader needs writers…Martin and Lewis, Burns and Allen, Abbott and Costello…you get the drift.

I’m glad you’re the other half to my comedy team. I don’t like working alone. So come back any time you get bored and peruse the verse I have written…you see it’s not for me…if it were my brain would be the only place I would need to store the uncontrolled spillage that is my written word. And although I have been accused of having a vast storehouse for the depository of thought, I truly do not want it to fill to over flowing…otherwise I might forget something important…like I am supposed to be asleep right now.

On that note good night reader and partner in the communication of most of what runs through the backyard of my mind, uprooting the flowers of (finish this sentence…I’m going to bed)

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