Faded Houses Green

Reading Ulysses in Montana #79

Glynda waltzed into the oaths of forty barbers belonging to the benevolent order of yokes on you. Or is that yolks? Folks at the bazaar squinted at the squid in the colander and said maybe not calamari today.

Glynda’s pills helped her see forty terraces above the rampage of stinking lollipops, but that’s not in waltz time, rather commotion time to tell the heathen’s honest truth! Saw bucks with a photo of other than Lincoln fed Rabbi Ben Ezra a feast of ten pounds of calamari while the ink dried on the collar of his blue button-down Oxford shirt with a logo of two oxen fording the river Cherwell next to a famous university of some renown.

The ink spot on his collar resembled a bridge over the river Cam in the shadow of yet another famous university, famous universities being run-of-the-mill-on-the-river-don’t-forget-to-Floss-your-teeth in Glynda’s literary imagination.

But not in Nottingham.