in a land so deprived of history it knew no name
he chanced upon a palace full brim of punters such that the practitioners of that oldest craft
regarded him with indifference
his purse his story
they held no value in the paling red light above them
like stars at the exstinguishment of dawn
is your paper worth the effort she asked
just lay with me stranger in no transaction save the silence beyond please
the one the other seemless
thank you
Flynnpoetry 