W EME TAGA IN
(We Meet Again)
By the incredible happenstance of
circumstance, we meet again. And
I am here once more holding this
fork to my throat trying to eat the
fine fish that you've made. Outside
this sylvan glade, the day has now
already brought the season's first
glimmers of afternoon snow.
You deny it, but I say so.
-
Yes flurries are nothing to get hung
about. OK. But. Still.
-
Remember where we are. I am
once more holding this fork to
my throat but it could just as well
be you. This fish ain't nothing to
write home about, and I was not
that hungry anyway.
-
Flurries are nothing to get hung
about, I heard you say. Yes. But.
OK.
-
I'm trying to think of something
to say back to you, here in this
sylvan glade, but all I can hear
is that backwards sound from
Strawberry Fields Forever.
Let. Me. Take. You. Down.
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