Fear of coming home late at night to find Peppa Pig eating cookies and getting crumbs all over my mattress.
Fear of the colour orange.
Fear of those tiny waving gold cats that you find in Chinos and Thai restaurants.
Fear of writing lists about my fears.
Fear of renting a film and it stops suddenly to reveal that short film from "The Ring" and I die the following week.
I am curious about that Peppa Pig pet you mention here. And what's wrong with colour orange? But, most important: I have enjoyed this poem much. It reminds me of Richard Brautigan, one of my favourite poets.
ResponderEliminarhttp://youtu.be/We7Q1p4nsEg?list=PLk4pkWn6ypCshbTqB8lgpLe80wxPwIgpT