Anyway, the guru promised me that tomorrow I'd see my name hanging over a mirror, but today I had to keep looking and accept what would come. And then up from his tomb came the dunking donuts man who said: where are all my wives he moaned... I just had to think: there's an awful lot of dead people turning up dead these days. But, whatever. And then I went back to writing my stories...
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VIRGINS UNITED
Virgins united here, how can we help you?
I want a virgin?
Second hand, or used?
What’s the price of each?
Well the second hand ones we can let go at a dollar and hour and fifty for the reach. How’s that?
That sounds fair to me. And what price the used?
Chinese or Egyptian?
Got any from somewhere exotic?
Step this way.
Image by Susan Cipriano from Pixabay
OVER THE MOON SLIPPING
So there I was writing away in the early mornings bright and early for years, and not doing too badly, all things considered, when the time came to move on again somewhere else. So I blew the whistle of departure and was gone to find myself over the moon slipping until I’d landed and said my prayers a long time later where I ended up, kind of like a Spanish language speaking love, and looking for a bed.
I was rootless in my rootless being most of the time when a slow gypsy walked in front of me and gave me the eyelashes and eye kind of thing that caused a stir in my belly that made me walk sideways quite a bit until I could straighten up again and I was able to give her a bow and say: “Senorita.”
“How nice of you to notice me,” she said, and looked into my soul until I was her slave.
“Accompany me,” she said then, and walked on into my life.
I was a butterfly, and ascending…
I WAS ONCE A RUBBER STAMP IN THE GRAVEYARD
Four voices of ahoy and a heart full of gold came to say their respects and brought along the whole family too until there was nowhere left to sit.
I felt like the wild dungeon man where no death can be repeated in hell more than this as they all looked at me.
I am not the death star I said, that is of your own doing. But I will tell you this: I was once a rubber stamp in the graveyard…
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DON’T MIND IF I DO
It’s maddeningly imperfect, isn’t it?
Yes, I think it is.
Will you come home now?
I may be home soon, as soon as I can find my way.
Well, don’t forget to look up at the stars, you just may find them shining down on you.
Counting my pennies with my beard I was relieved to find, that I had nothing more than I could think, and so was free to go my way, in any way that I could feel.
A blues band played for nothing in between the tables stacked high of where I was wanting this so much that I could die; and so I died.
Oh, give me a break, you have got to have more than that; how about a song?
I sang my heart out to be broken, I cried.
Well, that’s a start. What else did you do?
I kissed a girl.
Which one?
I don’t know.
Oh, come now, you have to know which one.
The beautiful one, if you must know.
But they’re all beautiful.
Then I had the one that went home with me, and to hell with the fear.
It must have been outstanding.
Mind your own business.
Well, I’m going down the pub; you coming?
Don’t mind if I do.
Image by Gordon Johnson from Pixabay
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