If These Walls Could Talk!
Finally, alone.
—John Ashbery
“I get it, you don’t have any
time because of what?” “Work!”
“If I were to stress eat, like
on teevee?” “Zsa Zsa Gabor!”
“With an ass like this and a
kitchen that won’t quit.” “Not
quite – give me a moment – Ms. –
Mrs. –” “It’s Mister Klemperer.
At least I think it’s Mister?”
“Darling, it’s just been the
two of us for how long now?”
“I think in terms of movies.”
“Sequels? But why not teevee?
That’s where it’s at. That’s where
it’s been for quite some time now.”
“Half a dozen years behind, remember?”
“I think it’s seven or eight.” “Mad Men!”
“Well, considering there’s only just
the one of us talking, I’d maybe
reduce it down to the singular.”
“You never told me you were single.”
[Head drops into hands, a common
sign of desperation, not madness]
“My new year’s resolution was to
stop monopolizing the airwaves.”
“I’m not sure that worked out
very well for you. . .” “New Year’s
