Mark Phillips' Pages: Workbook: February 2022

Workbook: February, 2022

February 28, 2022: She meant to be thoughtful but would undermine herself by refusing to collaborate.
February 27, 2022: "I'll live to one hundred fifty," claims La Catrina, the very figure of death.
February 26, 2022: The unimaginable narcissism of that decision.
February 25, 2022: Then why did you?
February 24, 2022: Valero bro so like you.
February 23, 2022: My rowmate, unmasked, scrubs the seatback tray and armrests with alcohol wipes.
February 22, 2022: I saw the ceiling in my dream.
February 21, 2022: Heat.
February 20, 2022: I never saw my mother dance.
February 19, 2022: So that you live alone...
February 18, 2022: "I feel so often that my path is to be lined with graves."
February 17, 2022: "So, my alcoholic friend, you have not delivered what you promised."
February 16, 2022: The young policeman is lost.
February 15, 2022: Your target's daughter is with her two friends...
February 14, 2022: The young policeman at your door asks if he can take your picture.
February 13, 2022: The books are yours, but people are taking them without bringing them back.
February 12, 2022: Job interview.
February 11, 2022: Hurry up. Catch up.
February 10, 2022: No, wait.
February 9, 2022: You've made your mother cry by speaking to her harshly.
February 8, 2022: You could get french fries at the bowling alley.
February 7, 2022: Give me my robe, put on my crown...
February 6, 2022: The people are not friendly to find you've slept on their table.
February 5, 2022: The books are yours, but librarians are shelving them as though they belong to the building.
February 4, 2022: The salon is upscale and not amused by your disheveled appearance.
February 3, 2022: Takeoff is delayed
February 2, 2022: our next contestant
February 1, 2022: under the power lines