03.Apr.2001

pies

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one touch, is not enough

I try to make my 'blow on the hot food entity' breath as cold as the Canadrian dry in desert, when chicken pot pies have just come from the microwave, and it's midnight, and you are death-defyingly tired.

I try, but that doesn't always mean I succeed.

I am going to bed with a burnt mouth. The land of sweet dreaming awaits, with 'just perfectly from the microwave' pot pies lined up for my subconscious consumption.

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time & machine