Punitive ghosts like steam-driven tennis courtshaunt the apples in my nonexistent orchard.I remember when there were just worms out thereand they danced in moonlit cores on warm Septembernights.
Richard Brautigan
Punitive ghosts like steam-driven tennis courtshaunt the apples in my nonexistent orchard.I remember when there were just worms out thereand they danced in moonlit cores on warm Septembernights.