WHEN TREVOR FINDS THE BEAM
'You all know, must know, probably
want to know then, what the meaning
of this is. So do I. Standing here, to
decide whether to be morose, or profuse,
isn't really much of a choice. (Pass me
another glass, OK?). So the Shangri-La
I here introduce to you may seem like a
dance in a barn-full of partners; but it's
not any of that at all. The considerations
given are all lacking, and all those in
positions of making them are fools.
-
Little Boy Blue, come blow your horn?
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall? Was it
something like that, anything at all? I
forget, my childhood lashes long ago
left. I am sad. I am open. Bereft. Little
Bo Peep, come get my....sheep?
-
I stared at the plate glass window here
for nearly an hour; just watching things
pass along it - the distortions, the wrinkles,
the wavers. It was so much like life, and I
wanted to walk right through it. Shards and
slivers notwithstanding. And then I woke
up still in a dream, it felt, and I had returned
to some other place I never should have been.'
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