http://slow.writerscafe.org/VictorClevenger The original writings of author Victor Clevenger en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776007270 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 On days trapped in a teardrop,I snap my fingers to backwoods doo-whop,but on days when I lack employmentI sit near the back windowand watch the plants grow.I smoke cigarettes of many varietyand the plants give me the silence I command.I watch the men of dedicationrush into the bustling sway of capit.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VictorClevenger/966518/ Green grapes were never my choice.She would drink the pale stuff and laugh,"California, California, I sure do miss California."I would swallow my burgundy andonce the cup's bottom was found,you could always count on one last cigarette being shared before the light went out.She always slept rightly o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VictorClevenger/962920/ Mother had made a breakfast meal this evening.  Eggs scrambled sprinkled with small pieces of pepper: black.  The pancakes were round, well, as close as could be, some had straight edges but they were large, larger than usual, greater than the plates edge.  Mother always made a couple.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VictorClevenger/962916/