We met outside a closing bar. My inertia interrupted, I remained for some time; smoked an imaginary American Spirit; nurtured an imaginary bond; wrestled an imaginary tension. Until, once upon a moment - the late-night fellowship set into motion unrestrained - the imaginary heaved a material breath. A friend born! Empathy transfigured! The imaginary spirit hurls a cream pie into the face of Disenchantment; delivers a fresh, wet rasberry [sic] onto the unspecting [sic] neck of sleeping Courage; places a trap-door along the imminent path of Judgement! He swears an oath at all, and traces the outlines of romance as the pathway for my journey homeward!

The John Francis

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