Kind of like a Magic 8 ball. Little bits of meaningless and important cliches pop up from dark murky liquid. I hold it in my hands -- a warm magic ball. And it is only big to me. Predictable and lucky like calling a shot: 8 ball to the corner pocket. Sink it.(I'm not as fancy as I sound. I've always been loud, dramatic and a mess of a mixed metaphor. My big storms are a mile wide and an inch deep. Really, they only mean something on the surface. Courage, brothers!!)
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