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.
4 comments:
This is very good. Are you usually drunk when you write these posts?
You'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
this was a thrilling read. -- casey
Like "Civil War thrilling" or some other kind of thrilling? Lionel Thrilling? Did you do a double reed; like an oboe?
---BA
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