Thursday, April 4, 2013

A History Revealed

It's a sort of devil, she moaned.

The moaning, I said, that's beautiful.

She moaned more.

I'm getting turned on, I said.

It's a sort of death, she mooed.

Moo on! I said. Moo on with your bad self!

I was always talking like that.

I had identified a new species, but I wasn't sure.

Be sure, she mocked. Mock on, I spat.

As if, by peer pressure, she mocked more.

There is no club you can join now, she warned.

Listen, I said, I feel plenty warned, you can back off with the warnings.

The warning was wearing on me, but I was more turned on.

The turning, she said, that's the real issue.

And, as if by force, the wind blew the newspaper.

I wailed. A stream formed. Ashes went forward.

Next stop: the devil, she purred.

She was always purring then.

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