There’s something funny about getting hit on by strangers. It’s vaguely unnerving, but also flattering. This young guy with a t-shirt down to here came up to me in the bus terminal today, introduced himself as Nemesis (not the name his momma gave him), and tried really hard to get my number. I told him we’d leave our next meeting up to chance.
This incident has nothing to do with this post, actually. But I couldn’t sum up this roll in a few clever words, so my meeting with everyone’s (supposed) Nemesis will have to do.
Once upon a time, I went on a picnic.
I met a cowboy; we supped on bread and wine.
He lived by the railroad tracks.
I licked my lips.
We feasted again upon a sweet green bounty.
But then time sucked me into its whirlpool, and I opened my eyes to a sunny day filled with friends and the promise of harvest.
And there they were!
A band of brothers kept us light on our feet.
We saw fall for what it is.
The hot bassist made good faces.
A lovely lady graced my company.
We deigned to paint each other’s faces.
The results were quite satisfactory.
Someone made love to a barrel of apples.
I found a Caiyus in a tree.
Hordes of pumpkins invaded.
And I awoke again to the loveliest face.
Yeah, hippies, mumblemumble.