R/ckets and S/ntries

translate your underwear to wander the Russian steppes. a dialect of interchange, more powerful than the little poets on the street named River Forgetting. your underwear as foreign market traditionally rebuked for sanitized referral, broken promise, belting out big songs like the Age of Arcs. your underwear as a diction of the times, less Russian dialect, more votes for you know who. your deleterious Olde World underwear remembers the farm day, breaking off into sentences, the coast of springtime. your underwear of all, voting properly in regulated booths, in time for the erected provenance of today and tomorrow. remember the alien idea of underwear, inside of the spaceship that brought you to this conclusion. doubt not the function in your break. today is leftover tuesday, loss as saturday.