Bugtussle's Bike Bags (Part 4.5)

-    Intermission (Poetic Interlude)    -

My Dearest Wishing to Belong to Another, Edithion:

Mr Bass asks, “Isn’t it customary to excuse oneself before trying anything as absurd as to what you have suggested?”

“But I thought,” replies Mrs B, “that you would see that I can’t go on living with this cursed condition hovering over us.”

“Impatience. 

Immanent. 

Immateriall
Immovable. 

Immense. 

Immeasurable. 

Immodest. 

Imminimms.”

“Don’t talk to me like that – it makes no sense. You’re just blathering off words that start with ‘IM’ as far as I can tell and it has nothing to do with our relationship. You might as well hang up a sign that says: Closed IMdefinitely."

“Don’t try to belittle my felicity. Don’t nullify this electricity. The Federal District is full of Morons who cross the eye and dot the tea.”

(Play that saxophone)

The Rook chimes in, “I’d like to climb up inside your soul and ransack to my heart’s content or maybe take you on a trip to Louisiana. I’ve got no leeway – got no moderator – no expectancy – I’m spent. I’d like to amble but I’m suffering from disamblease.”

“Your observation of my obscurity is more than clear to me. It’s one of the things I live for.”

Yours without the normal feelings of regret,

Alphonse (Lost While Cycling Across Madagascar) Baroovra



(Back: Part 4  -  Sherry)

(Next: Part 5  -  Shredded Styrofoam Cups)