CIRCUMSTANCES
(the new eugene o'neil)
This one rolls over, leaves me behind, gasping;
and only the following conclusions can be made -
the Lone Ranger was never alone, the wind in the
willows was shut off long ago, and 'Intimations of
Immortality' is really a dreary read. Every instance
of collateral damage is a monetary gain for someone.
-
I'm sitting back here, reading a newspaper riddled
with facts that don't lie. My small glass of iced tea is
turning to something else, like the words I am reading:
lies, distortions and fantasies with purpose. 'Old Mother
Hubbard sat in her cubbard eating her curds and whey,
along came a spider who was known to invite her to a
fantasy camp near every day.' Twisted logic, and all
the newfound pretzels in the world. Hanover, PA is
a good place for that.
-
In the local lingo, 'going bowling' means your
seeing a man about a dog. Or a horse. I already
forget. Some of the big barns have distlefinks gaily
painted, and beneath them old women in dainty head
bonnets sit - counting buttons or feeding chickens.
From what I've noticed, for each old lady there's
three young daughters. You do the math. You
count the orders. The Eggman cometh.
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