TERRORISTS, INFIDELITY

I fell asleep listening to the evening news.  Two sticky kittens dipped in refined petroleum were found abandoned in the gutters of Taipei.

In my dream, I am perched on a calciferous cliff in San Pedro with my coworker, Uncle F.  We are standing beside his humble, somewhat New English seaside dwelling.  He recounts how his daughter's body was shredded into pieces of detritus by a grenade tossed hastily into the same home by a young terrorist.  I sympathize.  

We crawled on our bellies through subterranean caverns gushing with petroleum.  Above is where irascible terrorists reign.  We crawl into an acquaintance's  small home.  After everyone leaves, I stay and do It with my friend.  It is only afterwards, however, that I remember I am in a relationship. I remember his member is a lesser crimson red.