Tuesday, November 02, 2004
Page 26
Michael jots swiftly, almost hastily onto a tissue paper. It reads;
Good evening ladies and gentlemen...
Welcome to tonight’s terrestrial infamy...walk into the hall of
Bleeding crescents and the oh so wonderful doctored intellect...
Followed by a love course of divine mime and vintage deranged-high..
The attire for this evening is celibest insanity,
Them shoes of
Oppressed realism, Cupid’s serpentine licked bow ties seem always best
For confessional occasions such as these...
Black coats, sire? No... Never! Purple lavender hats are all we need
To bring out the whipped clown...
And so commences what they all strive so indignantly to forget...
He completes the elegy with his signature at the bottom, neatly folding the tissue paper, and placing it inside his pocket. He takes his glass of Coke in his hand once more, and notices Omer as soon as he’s done quenching his thirst. Omer, with a glass in his hand, a smile on his face, is eyes lost into the very space we lose ourselves in every now and then. Lunar sight, grant me second sight. Lunar light, I allow you to grant me second sight. Micheal smiles. Another aerial vibe captured by his corral, another aura stamped on paper.
- posted by Mumra @ 1:31 PM
