Racing with the Moon, Barking at Austria. Jambalaya very much.
easily GLAM as volcanic ash whipped-by-the-wind into
passionately aeolian contours.
And, keeping that in mind:
because she went off on the tu form, her second phone call
was exponentially more intimate than envisioned. Imagined.
BEACH CLOSED. Previously, Austria was a disjunctive
of Prussia. And those were dark, dark days. Yet
days when felicity successfully might bridge dissonance.
Or/ vice versa, by masterful
use of gutter space and incrustation, depicted here
in a sweet series of frames, like bombast, over Tokio.
LOOSE LIPS SINK SHIPS.
Their third conversation, more or less, levitated.
Images of CITROËN, transOceanic, intransitive
as untamed pheromones.
Strong, strange, antiphonal, crazy-out-of-tune!
Theater seats going click. click, click. Tock, tock…
Time/ shift. EN-JOY COKE. FALL BACK,
SPRING FORWARD. Trust/ in me
when things go wrong.
* * * * * *
Curieusement, la première page ouverte
avec un chien qui aboie: WOOF! Ouaf ouaf! Woof!