The street where you live
There's something strange, yet disconcertingly familiar, about that prose. Could it be the return of one of blogdoms poet laureates? Or perhaps a "poet lariat" - the kind that makes you say, "Get a rope!"
It is mysterious, NW. There's a certain sense of deja vu I get upon reading it.It does bear watching. And it probably would be a good idea to keep a rope handy; one can't be too careful these days....
Lariats? Ropes? Where's the love?
Hmmm...Agreed the poetry seems familiar. All that's missing is a random French phrase to clinch the identity of Mr. Picklesworth.
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