Peel another 40-hour-workweek off the stack gyrating in your hands. Strip it from the wad and make it drizzle on the sign twirler at the live-nude intersection - “We Buy Gold, We Sell Gold” the sign reads.
Peel the gold leaf off the holy headpiece, off the Temple Mount, off the Dome Rock. Lotto jackpots get shared.
Peel the radial Goodyear’s off pop’s Ford Exploder glazing doughnuts into every Texas lawn, sister. Peel the sod away, the drought sucks like a dry hump with two backs, brother.