I have no hope left.
We have been pummeled helpless.
The memories of summer beatings have resurfaced.
There is one more day of baseball for this Yankee team.
Next man up. All hands on deck. It matters not. Give Jesse a game.
The ash clouds are visible.
Time to get out of town.
We'll always have Boston.
Nos morituri te salutamus.
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3 comments:
I mean Jasson
but he loves to go by Jesse
I'll be the guy frozen in time with his dog, maybe some pizza next to me, perfectly preserved by the Torontonian lava flow.
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