THE SKEPTIC IN
'I do not think that I shall ever see the sea again,
these wheels just will not get me there. I am
nearly housebound now, and stuck.' Pervasive
the sorrow and the sad, alike as to licorice or
anise; just a numbing stare-away was all.
I wanted to volunteer to push him there : not
in, just to. I wanted his unease to go away; to
hell with anise and licorice. He needed some
happy vanilla ice cream. I'd be the clown to go.
Nothing seemed to work. Not so hard, is it really,
to understand - just a few feet from the grave,
this chump, now sedated, sits sloppily astride
his perfectly brand new conveyance.