an arrogant fluorescent orange

An Arrogant Fluorescent Orange

As they got rough and did the old twist-arm act, carrying me out,

they exchanged addresses, and began to court one another. It was

some deep and inexplicable need of my own to hear them

waiting for that split second when time stopped and

make up for his vulgarity when that devotchka was singing music

to convince me that perfection and flawlessness are not the same thing.

As industrious as the busy ant of summer, as obedient and

vaguely, blurrily, not quite familiar,

I had to lean against the white-washed wall so that all the white got

squelched to the cab muttering about compensation and why

all they required was a vaccination of English to set them right. Still, I felt

an expression of frozen hauteur on her face, as if she were a society lady at

what sort of jeezny I was going to live now. And all sorts of like pictures

will laugh at you, but people laugh at a great many things, so there's no need to

find, in the long run, it is best that way. I know I am

sometimes like a sort of mutant red raccoon.