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David Wallace Fleming
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
David Wallace Fleming on Smashwords
Too stoned to remember, it was nowhere near December
And ‘though apathy did engender I drove myself to grocery store
Badly wanting flavored floss because from stuck popcorn I was cross
And hunting the last sedan spot had turned into a choir
Why then, tell me, should hunting a spot become this big choir
What am I doing this for?