He hallucinated the presence of a girlfriend in his life; he was seeing someone.
This vision led to headaches; he took it with a migraine of
salt.
His Jamaican friend rode the autobus; he paid rasta fare.
The same friend decided to effect a clean slate with his
legs; a fibula rasa.
A band came on the radio; Ramen At Work.
The song, “Who Can It Beef Now”, tickled listeners with
power pop hooks; it didn’t noodle around.
Trans Fats Domino came on the radio; a commercial followed
for Trans Fats Domino Sugar.
A commercial followed for Air Trans Fats Domino; for Trans
Fats Domino Theory.
The man by now clip clopped down the stairs to the subway;
he passed through the stile with style.
He thought of two motion pictures that would take place at
the machines that governed entrance to the subway; one of them, “Doggy Stile”,
predicted euphoric canine encounters.
He traded the word “citrus” for the word “circus”; in his
mind, the Ringling Bros. Citrus was coming to town.
The man traded the word “Mylanta” for “Santa” and the name “Klaus”
for “Claus”; in his mind, Mylanta Klaus was coming to town.
There were three stars in the evening sky; “Let us kiss three times”, the man thought.
There were three stars in the evening sky; “Let us kiss three times”, the man thought.
He thought of a woman he really loved; “Let us kiss three
times”—and all will be forgiven.
This is very good. Are you usually drunk when you write these posts?
ReplyDeleteYou're too kind, sir. Fermented products are never far but I believe in being tight; not blind. It's a bit too hard to fit pen to paper when blind. Hey, man -- I hope we can drink a spirit soon. ----BA
ReplyDeletethis was a thrilling read. -- casey
ReplyDeleteLike "Civil War thrilling" or some other kind of thrilling? Lionel Thrilling? Did you do a double reed; like an oboe?
ReplyDelete---BA