... and I'm not so tired, but too lazy and too busy writing a Spanish composition and preparing to stare at the computer screen watching the Gameday broadcast of the ball game (no cable for me, alas, though I only miss it at times like these) to write anything intelligent (one need just look at the previous sentence for concrete proof of this). Anyway, I came across a found poem by my dear friend Aisha (not her real name either... shh...).
Passing flashy orange
sycamores along a silky autumn
sea, a poem came and went
for want of paper.
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