Jargogled Impressions.

that kid in the neighborhood with a hopping gait, hands that sway and feet that refuse to stay; head held high in the gusty wind, eyes kept steady despite the grind. it hops it purrs it skips and rears, it moves about-no thoughts nor cares.

i see him everyday, on the road, besides the bay; how i wish i could be there; there where things are simple easy and busy, where life is not teasey and creasey; jump over the filth with your small feet, move out the trash- an easy meat.

come hither I say, stay with me do not go away;