Thomas Pynchon & America

you remain the least of their paranoid worries smouldering up the hudson flowing grey hair they paid for tips once now change is loose vengeance cold uniformed stares outside exits and gas stations over platforms red numbers an eye for a letter destinations yelp songs for the settled obvious melodies time warp plotlines distinguished by our humours ascend gently into that dim light hands stretching out to catch the glowing halos of redwood the liant laser beams (truths

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