Faded Houses Green

Classes and masses of long-forgotten linden bulbs fled en masse into the limpid pot of molasses at the bottom of fortune falling hill.

Ignited casks of sodium balls entered the bright eye of what have you done for me lately, but lately had arrived too early to enjoy the cream of the dream of that year’s sugar cane crop–once bitten twice higher than the Murray Hotel if the living is easy in the land of the valley of paradise–and not just in summertime, whatever Janice and George had to say about it. Jim and Russell and Thomas would beg to differ, but the threesome didn’t beg for anything where julips and tulips are involved, especially if the fishing had weakened her knees. Controversies of hilltop valleys aside, Anthony ate his pasty in peace while reading on the sofa under the full-blown stuffed bear.

Flies belie the safety of the river belayed through it, were it not for the football team practicing eating their Friday brownies.