<p align="left"><font face="Courier New" size="4">WHAT PART OF THE DAY DO YOU SPEND RUNNING?<br>
Bright after your breakfast o. j.?<br>
for Tea? or maybe guests for cocktails?<br>
Do you run for the mountain's, head from, for,<br>
taxes, taxis, the draft the Heat the smog, the Valley?<br>
Do you suffer the planes and fear bombing<br>
flailing, failing in the city streets during<br>
rush Hour, powerless mid day traffic, hog-tied<br>
by brief case to the slaughter for the stake<br>
of sheep in Chicago witch hunts<br>
and the pangs, the screaming meemies of the o.d.<br>
wad-e-melons uncle Tom's thumb up your ass<br>
to the non-profit unsolicited tax deductible<br>
chief concern of petrified white America: Bigotry.</font></p>
<p align="left"><font face="Courier New" size="4">Which part of the day do you
spend running<br>
to the mirror to check for pimples-acne<br>
and other minor skin irritations to check<br>
for that blemish which might succeed in never<br>
getting you given away, discarded, thrown into<br>
the ash can of institutions (i.e.) compulsory, impulsory<br>
incarsartorial marriage.<br>
Henry Miller proved you can be a slob and still-born succeed;<br>
Hugh Heffner that you kan't.<br>
So where does that push you? To the post office<br>
the only place a hated hippy can or is able to get a job?<br>
The Armed forces?</font></p>
<p align="left"><font face="Courier New" size="4">Me? I run to ward (fend off,
hospitalize, isolate)<br>
words, woods, to paintings sight to color and/or<br>
drugs, takers, users, to the Sixth Sensation, flee<br>
to flying saucers - intangibles, tangerines, the insanity<br>
that will force, allow the law, the enforcers to meet<br>
with the inviolable eye and millenial diabolicus, released<br>
by their own Hydrogen bomb (tHreat) Heroin or Hubert H. Humphrey.</font></p>
<p align="left"><font face="Courier New" size="4">printed by<br>
the communication company<br>
a member of<br>
Ups</font></p>