A rainbow in a cloud of exhaust: a sinister sort of beauty frozen in a prism of poison.
Could I believe, in a trackless Time past, some plump bottom of the female persuasion settled onto a soft mound of sand to seat still… then leap and gyre amid the crestfallen sea meeting beach to leave behind a peculiar, particular shape that has become the most recognized and foremost symbol of love? Yes. I entertain such romantic notions.
The standard deck consists of two colors, four suits, thirteen ranks, and fifty-two cards that, with the values added up, equal three hundred sixty-four, three hundred sixty-five if one were inclined to include the Joker. We experience a single rotation of the Earth as a daily passing through two seasons, the additional two being transitional, under thirteen phases of the moon as we circumscribe the sun in a matter of fifty-two weeks that sum up to three-hundred sixty-four days.
The social activity of America is like an irregular breath, the cultural lung increasing in volume during the popular holidays to release in an exhale of rest that builds up towards yet more fervent activity of human bodies like oxygen and nitrogen bouncing off the alveoli of commercial attraction. Moribund existence of a rush and bustle towards a false destination, breathing wallet (gasping and dying for some), a fulfilled sense of lingering unfulfillment.
I dreamed with a start, of a woman of crystal beauty dangling a gold fish, long and large, over her gullet, and with a slurp-smack, bisect it into half with pearlescent teeth. O! she laughed as I expressed my dismay with an outstretchsplayed hand and a round mouth. Coming closer, she displays delicate teethmarks on carrotflesh- no, what? Hee hee, she giggles through those teeth, one learns to make vegetable move like fish!