Sporting Goods

Citizen Same’s head is tilted downward with a plume of bed head hair. He is sporting goods in Carthay Square. Ball. Lit as if what does the light say? Concrete spread throughout the skyscrapers like layer cake. Stories high. The big corner is a lesson. Drop a pin. San Vicente and Wilshire Boulevard is like a department store with window dressings seen with kind eyes. Pay attention to the vertical doors of Italian and English exotics opened for display. Daily drivers of prominence. Their lights are left on all night. Hope it starts up by morning, unlike a manual shopping cart. Search inside bags of stuff for the fuller’s soap for our garments are both tarnished tatters and designer’s pride. Fall. Refuse despair by rummaging around the scattered states to find, I have loved you. Under the influence of his sprinkled blood by sanctifying unsportsmanlike conduct.

The healthy debate the suffering homelessness creates not realizing it’s not what you earned, but the inheritance you’ll receive. Overflowing joy spills out of believers through catastrophic damages. Enabled to meet the eligibility requirements from the cables sent long ago with the message: He is able. End homelessness with Jesus even though you have not seen him. Call. In him, there are results driven love. We are seen in the reflection as his treasured possession. Pushing the cart is soothing as it freely skates over concrete grooves, unlocked. Each work is judged impartially while not giving up in infinite games. A participant in the divine nature has left the tense place of past participles by Immanuel’s tug to go with. Shoulders shrugged to follow along when the rug is pulled out from underneath. Love signs us up to play it again sports to experience how he is Lord over all.