Smoke-disseminated taproom. Woebegone cobwebs

overhang beams. Unnoticed he makes tracks, lurks in

boscage shadows. Mauser poised for the Royal

Toothpaste Squeezer, as he dawdles along lane. I.R.A.

grasp nettle of parish-pumps.

Unhooking paper folds, backbone gristles. Onus instincts

boilersuit, level-headed cap, matchlock at hip. Eyes vacant,

she deducts finalized minute of legionnaire’s breath.

Portugal’s Popular Forces esteem the quick change.

Ruses entrée to union-buster’s house-warming. Heidsiek

Monopole Brut titillates nose. Pale jazz floats uninfectious.

Intrigue and censure lip to ear. From purse, the six-shooter’s

not chichi. Mayhem – a pelt to Weather Underground’s get-away.