i’m never quite sure
how to tell you this.
alarmed, he looked
at the time, disrobed,
got dressed, buttered
his knife, etc., and
then he was out the
door and into the
world. thoughtful
ness ensued. until,
that is, the afternoon.
at rush hour he shot
blanks at the oncom
ing traffic, all of which
was moving in excru
ciatingly slow motion.
but then he was struck
by an idea he found so
deplorable that he just
had to bring it up at
dinner. and once he
did, the salty air that
had hung limply over
the coterie ever since
the whoosh of his arr
ival, if not before, let
out an ever so slight
whimper. all but
content, he then
decided upon the
blackberry crumble
for dessert.
