That One Time In Australia When...

I heard her voice crack. But not crack exactly... rumble. I thought that it was beautiful that she was able to drink carrots from empty streams. I, of course, did not tell her this. Instead, I asked her: "Where are the bananas? Are you out?" "Yes, we have no bananas," she replied. "But... How will you ever get your potassium supply?"

I already knew the answer: MLA citations and underscored vertebrates are the only lists which don't include supplements. I suppose that is why we are here, in this abandoned garage. The walls are green with mildew, but the smell is like fresh baked bread pies. Too bad gentrification has gotten the best of us. Now we will never know what it is like to live in the backyards of ancient trellises.

Oh well, it is Cozy here. Like a skirt that has been wading in the sea despite the trivial condemnations of its past anchors. In the 60s she told me that she would fight until her knuckles bruised. Now she just sings songs. But her voice sure is beautiful when it cracks... rumbles.