Faded Houses Green

The tock tock ticking of the empty barrel of laughing monkeys gave way to the glorious endive salad headlining the verdant wedding feast.

Fair trade winds blow across the seas of lunacy in the hour of greatest need for the embattled bridegroom. If only he could see the sword of Damocles’s brother hanging from a leather strap above a very safe landing spot, he wouldn’t have the cold feet of the light of dawn but rather the hot-to-trot feet of the marrying kind. So I’ll continue to continue whatever I was pretending to do in the early evening of the day before the night after.

Swept away, askance, arms akimbo, akin to the aching knees of a beauteous storm rising over a pusillanimous region of long forgotten dimensions. Dimensions so extreme as to make a mockery of butter stirred with milk to yield the same kind of cream that rises to the top of all human endeavors–whether good or ungood, right or unright, useful or rigidly diligent.

Originally published November 27, 2023