Faded Houses Green

Reading Ulysses in Montana #307

Avast at last, Agnes entered the shallow realm aghast at the merry crowns of scores of critters leaving the door ajar.

A jar of strawberry preserves reserved the right to party into the very painting that Monet had sold for cost of a veritable feast, the moveable feast having already been cornered by a posthumous Hemingway, calling out from beyond the grave. At some point the bell no longer tolls–for thee or me–and the silence reminds Agnes of the joke about the dead ringer for his brother whose face rings a bell, but she forgot the punchline. Agnes book her trip to the Azores but never arrived due to confusion over whether to have the omelet or the fish sandwich.

From afar, Agnes called out ahoy to those who had ears to hear, but she remains adrift to this day on the shallow realm, aghast and annoyed with overused ploys.