Variations on a Pointillist

Waiting for the bus/Eleanor with the golden tube eyes. I stuck my foot through the sidewalk with a glee apparent from all directions and sides, only to find John's frown. A screeching car halt of enormous locusts and men from Robert's imagination; studied imago/The gynecologist entered the room after her feet left the floor. Eleanor laughed in chuckles at the arrival of an orange bus. His friend, George Hackner, screamed in sea foam reams amid the asylum forest, his shoes smiling. I knew him once; steadying a dead greed bag of mushrooms and glory. A deed mixed with raisins and one and one half cups of flower. He only told me of George. “The kaleidoscopic magnification of stoned rocks and a...” eventually emitting his name. I often snickered as she past. If she only knew. I frightened her once/porpoises and other sea-faring creatures. Did I tell you of this book I read? He told me once. Through the window I saw her blush with a grin of spinach. My partner to the left grabbed my mouth with both hands and lips. We descended the sidewalk in search of Freud and a man named Albert. We could hear Webern off to a shout/right of us. The sewer was enclosing and disposing of outside lights. The sidewalk side stair closed behind us. I could see the jester in legs of bells and soot socks.
Not far behind
a bus
a hound
and a brand new paragraph.