The mosquito of summer
is sharper-looking than the fly.
No contours to suggest
a well-intentioned insect…
It wants to drink my blood,
and the remainder of my wine.
If it wants to, I say “Good!”
I have goosebumps.
I feel precious.
the book of my life
when they forgot
to put a sharp pencil
next to my bed.
Reminiscent of a book I can only read when I am little.
The Hare burst through the door, excitedly. “I’m back!”, he said.
“Back from where?” I asked.
“Nomatter. The place was ghastly and instantly forgettable!”
I explained that my holiday wasn’t tip-top either. It did not stop me from thinking, as “vacations” should. Even calling upon the ghost of Chevy Chase did not liven things up.
The Hare said he wished to go to the moon.
But, as he well knows, one cannot simply go to the moon, without first considering the sheer, generally profound nature of it. Finding God helps – some people find God on the moon, and are almost half-suprised when they do. If we’re going to the moon at all, we’ll wait till Christmas or somethng like that.
The moon. There are at least 3,000 amazed children, pagans, hippies, and/or nerds looking at it at any one time. It is so cock-sure of it’s profundity it has no need to explain itself. It orbits in entirely different circles.
Q: Time is but a piece of string. How long is it?
A: However long the moon is (the moon is round)
The moon controls the waves. how lovely. I wish the moon could reverse them again. I’ve built a wonderful sand castle, but sand is not as strong as brick, as any little pig from a children’s story will tell you.
“I want to go now!”, The Hare protested.
He explained, quite rightly, that the moon is dying, on account of being mined for golden syrup in retaliation for the distruction of a large building on Pluto; and that we should go before it’s gone.
He made a good point. That is to say I didn’t understand it, and I was impressed. That being so, I am so behind on my work, and he is in the Future, which means precious little to me now.
As always, we wait for Christmas…
…or something like that.
Parting company with an old doorway,
I walk into another.
“Another suitcase in another hall…”
The new room smells of fresh linen.
If I were gone for a lifetime
I would miss my family.
Happily, in a week,
they can’t change much.