4/9/1999 Geoffrey Ashbrook
Alphred walked along, the jar of cow saliva, which was at the end of a rope slung over his shoulder, tapped rhythmically his sword and tin of vacuum cleaner replacement bags, and he thought as he passed by how he’d been baptized five times in that barber shop. Williams passed on the back of a dromedary and the two men tipped hats to eachother. The stars were out clearly, but the moon was bright enough to cast a shadow and read a newspaper, or even the family history locals often had printed on their finger nails. “Father died in boating accident retrieving perambulator from pond… plaid slacks, green silk tie, felt hat, pogo champion, calculator club at school.” The girl who was ringing up his sand bags at the station was having register trouble and so he had time to read at least her one hand. It must have been hard to have been raised without a father.
Diddy, tied Rombo to tree tie toe shoe. Way wall why a go, no tore tree tie toe shoe, on go balloon to China on a windy day ‘hello you.’ Haven’t havaleers agone to far in forks and skaters pant’s and shoe? All for shoppy soaps and garters gardeneers and look-at-you. Chime, for Rombo jumped over her own shoe. A show for downward glancing tree leafs know to notice gum on either time and pleasures seekers go rooms don’t for all we keep and let a malnutritioned goat lover sow his name on a creek side snow-scape. Blame it let all lepers know a name that cleaners keep for keepsake. Blind me William I say go and brey a dial tone or two for tea, and sit a little lisp’n while till books forget to look for me. Grey cap scones, and napkin waiters too, concocting deprivative vertigo’s over amphet-erated smile sad cup rides, like a sail and anchor lost at bay or sea. And Diddy straited her head and visored eye for far as she could see, and untied then together ran dalome a chew stuffed rabbit ear. Binoculars on bottom shoe, untie, some glop in the grass good riddance. Rombo no go, did a rabbit see. So good. Window shopping.
Twirl did all the Catholic leafs above Alphred as he walked along. Wide Maples, pig sized Rutoes, pale pink half dollar Elandroes, and rows of weeping cherries. He shifted his grip on the sand bags and walked up to the side of his horse. In the moonlight the thin transparent glass hairs glimmered over the dusty mirrored platinum surface, particularly on the hind legs where the metal rippled as the lean mussels shifted. His long vaguely photoluminescent mane well combed, his long copper blended muzzle gleaming, his deep wet vegetable eyes patiently conveying stillness now unnaturally prolonged. Out of a small bag Alphred pulled a teddybear made of bundled fiberoptic threads, and shook it slightly in eye’s view as one might present a new toy to a dog. And of course at this invitation Simper quickly devoured the snack, chewing with cork teeth that squeaked. “Sorry,” he said. “I was a little longer than I expected. But I assure you, not that you care, that this sand is the highest, finest quality yet.” To which Simper whinnied. And on he mounted, and off they went. He thought how by Diddy’s time it was day, and then how for that matter that could mean anything.
Olives in a jar do tip the pass well.