Faded Houses Green

Ahoy the joy among the affluent druids for peace movement about the why axis, her ex said.

Broods of sardines swelled like petunias in the blind alley of fate at the bottom of the sunlit cradle. The cradle rocking and falling but no boughs to break under the mistletoe nor any shoes to shine to the delight of Mayor Blackstone. Her majesty the cuttlefish squirted India ink all over the bleached trousers of the Tippendale mob along the waterfront. Glib answers to the question of sidereal mountains going one more revolution than planned from her buoyant perspective.

She could only bolt downright, her upright being turned into a spinet or sometimes worse yet a fortepiano playing fortepiano (fp) along the River Kwai in great reed vessels filled with smatterings of olive oil and tinsel.

Hansel would have given anything for another gingerbread cookie, but the wicked witch, Gretel, had something else in mind.

Originally published December 5, 2023