Blandly we talk of love and the
way that pink hearts yield to concepts much bigger than their embolisms. Good
little goats are we, to a trend that defies the hand which talked of nothing
but the opening of goodness and the righteousness of cuddles. Today I grew into a man with chest hair and
John O' Groats whispered sweet nothings into the back of my hedgerow. Tomorrow
I meet his wife and talk about the times I shot our daughter from a canonical
cannon and hoped sincerely that she would never turn or return to my side. The
shingles of my liberalism are shaking and I suppose that it's to do with
someone that I saw the other day but just can't remember the face of. Love is
not a first sight thing, it is a forty-eighth.
I suppose it's easy to get
embittered at the gender of the evening but it never realised that it walked
around in drag. Lipstick is just another word for thin mouth. CD covers are not
allocated to the thoughtless and chubby. Today is the first day of the restful
horrors of tomorrow night. Groaning will get you nowhere in this world unless
you have a trolley that doesn't talk back. The branch isn't quite strong enough
for a gentle metaphor rub down. These corners are lethal so be advised and do
not bring me into it. I am really rather unnecessary in this matter; just ask
the letter zero.
Thank you for the thanks to
gratitude. Thank you for the fielding card that does not curve properly unless
asked in Dominican. Blaze on and wax the walkway. It is tonight that we should
fear the most, anything else could be donkey logic. Curls are the new roses and
Michael said so to Nigel the past week. It wasn't a sight to be particular
about, it was just another way of wasting the early hours of your existence.
Michael said something about the
end of trouser presses. Nigel mentioned that that was a myth and should not be
recited by cretins with childish minds. Michael told Nigel to fuck a lemon and
use the lime as lubricant. Nigel said, well there's certainly no need for such
language, you stinky twat-faced git. Michael exclaimed. Nigel shot him in the
ankle and left it at that. Michael told him he wouldn't just lie down so he
misinterpreted the dances beyond instead. Nigel knelt down beside him and
punched Michael in the shoulder. There was a lot about it on the news. I wished I hadn't been there.
Qualifying for the raffle
auction was enough of a pastime for any old chap to handle. I once met an old
chap and we discussed the merits of romantic coupling. He sought an invitation
to a gay bar and told me to go with him but I said not a chance you creepy
tuft-eared old chap and he took offence. He wasn't wearing any leather nor did
I expect him to do so. The light was on the blink but I crossed the road all
the same. I like crossing roads and looking at watches on other people's
wrists.
Rectal thermometers are not good
friends on Valentine's day. Neither are medals or roast beef. Cuttlefish are surprising
conversationalists and will not say much if you don't blow bubbles directly into
their face. Scales are for the lonely, who are equally unavoidable. The shots
are ringing out.
I suppose the edge of a buzz saw
is not the perfect dinnertime conversation topic. I asked an old lady with a
green card why she had a green card seen as how she'd grown up in this country.
Why did she need it? She told me because it belonged to some guy named Gerard.
I reckon that I knew the Gerard she was thinking of but his name was Bruce. He
was plucking dandelions the last time I saw him and was in no mood for a quick
chat about global warming. I was known for my fierce political views back then
but they have long since slithered down the riverside.
Perfume wafts make no sense to
me but then I have no sickles to speak of. I relied on rattles throughout my
later life and now I am ready for the winking of koala bears. Opinionated
childhood dreams don't like to be called up at eight o'clock in the morning for
anybody or any reason. I'm breaking lollipop sticks right now to make the
perfect gift for a woman I'm bound to never meet twice in a year. It's very
romantic when you think about it but not quite so linear.
Mug handles, mug handles, mug scandals
and watch me walk. Ghostly apparitions appeared to me that time I almost caught
a catfish. It was quite obscure to me, the way its tail danced in an absent
wind. I realise now that I should have choked it when I had the chance rather
than let it fall out into the dishwater instead. Vox populi brought it to my
attention and it breaks my spleen to think so. Hooks are twisting my baggage
into misshapen shapes and I just don't care at all in this current climate.
These words on a page are starting
to overwhelm my fingernails. They leave my thumbprints shallow and porous
before the sunlight's heavy beams. I'm on cruise control whenever I want to
know why I wouldn't go off and do that stuff instead. Instructive, to say the
least. The jobless and meek have tassels and I really appreciate that shit. The
fires of Xerox machines make me smile toothless cherubs. The fork is bleeding
and the spoon is laughing. The knife has nothing to say on the matter. Besides,
would you even listen? You don't even listen to your daughter these days.
Goodly Master Wizard, how I envy
you. Your sleeves reach the ground while mine cling to my wrists. It is a sad
day for polyester but a better day for swimming.
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