Mr Mascellani's Musings

Stroll

He cries like a love beetle for the stars in the sky. It all seems so unreal to
him. It being life,wife, strife, and artichokes. He doesn't like artichokes.
He doesn't like their greenness nor the fact that they grow in the ground
and remind him of earth like a tupperware party that has gone wrong.

57. Earth splits from its axis. We are doomed. Screams from the
balcony.Communication. The girls breakdance in the back alley.
The cows are tired.

Self indulgent? You bet. I bet. She, he, they are all it in together.
It beinga big white whale that brims like soap in the dish of mad lard.
Lard and drippings. And the Queen of jolly old England. Pip, pip. What.
What?

Of course not in this life time. Who is he? He is the guy who flew from
Sydney to Arkansas on a buzzard. The blue buzzard of sentimentality.
Oh, say can you skip through the forests of love and not stop for breath?

Your stick has a pointy end. Be careful of how you play.

That's all.