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Wild thing

November 12, 2009

Like Max, I am fearful and fearless, adrift on a sea of imaginary emptiness. I roar load, but just want a soaring fort and something akin to sleeping in a pile.

The wild rumpus, often of my own making, started long ago. Somewhere, someone has dinner ready. I’ll be there just as soon as I find my way home.

Posted in Kind of true |

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