HOW EVERY DETAIL
ENTAILS SOMETHING ELSE
Sometimes I cringe : peeling the apple backwards,
bad luck; dropping the banana skin inside-out showing,
no good. I should die before I get to Heaven? Or must
I get there first, only then to die? To much of a mix-up
for my own good sense. And I simply don't never know.
-
Just today, I spent fifteen solid minutes talking dogs
with some girl I'd never seen before - Rutgers stuff:
small ring in her nostril, rounding out, and a stud
somewhere below her lower lip. A few very random but
bright streaks of green - green, mind you - in her
otherwise unremarkable pixie hair. Black leggings under
a short skirt, and work boots. Her boyfriend - which
surpirsed the hell out of me, to be frank, stood around
smiling and eating a Rita's ice. Destination : Rendezvous.
-
Otherwise, for humanity's sake, I wouldn't have known
what to say - but all the words came and I kept it up.
Yes, every detail entailing something else, and if I'd
ever stopped listening, then I'd have had to stop talking
too. That's the way it runs. Keep it up. Keep it going.
(Life is good, when the small talk's flowing?).
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