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The Smell of McDonald's French Fries in the Bedroom Where You Died is Copyright © 2000 by Ralph Robert Moore. All Rights Reserved.
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the smell of mcdonald's french fries in the bedroom where you died
The smell of mcdonald's french fries in the bedroom where you died earth rolls away windows clouds so small now dropping away under your feet one chance to look down as you disappear does your life flash before you you get only one image walking across a parking lot where or when in your life you can't tell a cool day maybe after a rain blue sky skinny green trees along the edges parking lot half full your feet feeling the tar underneath left right walking across a parking lot where were you headed that anonymous day where were you coming from were you happy or sad where is the poetry where is the boredom of your life where are the lovers the friends family the ten thousand textures you touched tickets potato skins grey light bulbs that rattle when you shake them the white tissue you'd use to wipe off your cock after fucking the numbing buzz sticking your finger into a light socket the memory in your palm of the roughness of your son's hair the shoulder jostles the feel of a phone against your ear what it felt like to tell a joke to hold someone's hand to take your clothes off at the beach but only this left of it to remember it all by now just left right walking across a parking lot.