...So the class ended and We moved outside, through the drab parts of campus, out to the same road We had walked after running to go shopping, and before long We started running once again. And again My leg acted up, so She made Me walk. I did not get all shattered and symbolic over this, but merely sang... the song We shared, other songs from that album, by the same singer, his brother, anyone living or dead... As before, She ran ahead and back, then behind, then back to Me. Be free, My Love. Just come back someday, okay? Please?
Have I not the strength in me to upbraid myself for being so consistently mushy, for parading on like a ("reproduction" of a) Shakespearean sonnet, when you know damn well that nobody's going to die in the end? No, I think I'm going to have to give that task to you, unless of course you go for this sort of thing, in which case more power to ya... there's more to come.
But not now, there isn't, as I'd like to finish up this sitting by telling you a joke. Knock, knock. I said knock, knock! Knock! Knock! Play along, ya toads, please? Fine. See ya.
|© 1993 Mark A. Linsenmayer||[ Contents ]|