Monday, February 22, 2016

7837. IN THE GARDEN, THE CHESHIRE...

IN THE GARDEN, 
THE CHESHIRE...
Cat was smiling again. That little face kept
hiding things and running off, but always with
it's smile in place. A Mockingbird with its
sixtieth song would have made me no
happier. This was the estate sale to end 
them all. Out back, the side of the barn 
had been painted trompe l'oeil, and seemed 
to be one barn into another barn into another,
each smaller, towards infinity. A spot where
all things disappeared. I gave up looking after
a while  -  instead deciding to watch the 
fairness of that apple-maiden handing out
cider and cookies. She had the swelling look
of a too-ripe angel, and it wasn't doing me
any good; speaking of trompe l'oeil. I knew
exactly what I was seeing, let's say. At the
sideboard, the dog was resting its head
upon a pile of hay.

1 comment:

Martin Kloess said...

Very enjoyable, thank you