STILL, WARY LIBRARIAN. Her Gaze Passes Over the Hungry Worshippers of Myspace, Alighting on a Stack of Ponderous Tomes Adorned with Scrolling Font, Pugnacious and Alluring. Seized by a Moment of Abandon She Plucks Up a Book of Love Poems, Clutching it with a Silent Plea for Some Piercing Words to Ignite Her Soul. She Opens at Random, With Unruly Hope, and Reads:
Maybe - though I do not bleed - I am wounded,
walking
along one of the rays of your life.
In the middle of the jungle the water stops me,
the rain that falls with its sky.
She Stares Dismayed. The Book Flies Suddenly Across the Desk with Savage Fury, and the Librarian Tosses Her Hair Tempestuously. Oh, Shut Up, Book --- She Thinks to Herself --- For Last Night I Dreamed I Was Cradled in the Protective Embrace of My Long Absent Lover, Come For Me at Last --- Bumblebee the Transformer. Suck it, Pablo Neruda.
That Was Hysterical. Oh, Bumblebee, Rescue Me!
ReplyDeleteI once said, while drunk, that if I was a girl robot, I would do Bumblebee...no one lets me live it down, but I really don't care. ;) Love the "pic".
ReplyDeleteYes! Give me a sandwich between Bumblebee and Raphael the Ninja Turtle, and I can die a happy woman.
ReplyDeleteHAHA! Oh good god I love you.
ReplyDelete