oldest nail, the city is not ready.

there is so much gosh darn construction in and around the city, that it is hazardous to even gaze upon. meaning being, if you catch yourself staring at a new constellation of jersey barrier road cone asphalt death strip, the next sound you will hear will be your upperstrut bearings smashing against the struts, loud and offensive. Smarts! Jabs up your spine, never forgives.
speaking of which, there are many ladies sending the pregnant pill around town, like a hot designer drug being passed around without fail, everybody gets well. they prance about town in their pastel belly tents and wide flared trousers. i saw this one round tummied lassie stepping across devonshire st looking like an extra off the old battleship Galactica show: black linen and satin flowie pants jacket blouse. the belly was set off with GOLD PIPING down the arms, legs, and lapels. jesuChristos, like han solo meets david bowie: green milky booze and mounds of coke; spice mines gone arwy and the church of man love goes up in flames. get dolled up toots, time for another red army recruit to be birthed. sorry to say this, but it might as well be tagged and bagged upon re-egress re-entry earthTime: in month 14 a crazed rebel agent will plundge an old fork into the temple of your soft newborne, sharply turn left, and extract some serious UdonNoodle matter.
if you could go back in time, and pickle yourself, would you do it?
back to business, Boston is fortifying its walls, secretly. civil services are amassing bunkerLike safety networks. the whole charade is being masked as a Beautification process.

just what humanity needs, more superfitia.