Well, conspicuous by her absence anyway. Feedjit is short of Sarahs today. I went for another
moonlit walk tonight, the moon being full and the sky generally clear. I was
trying to shake off some of life’s cobwebs, since they continue to weigh so heavy.
My route took me along Mill Lane
and past the house of the greatly esteemed S, where there was evidence of only
one human presence. It consisted of a pair of aubergine-coloured arms washing
the dishes – the kitchen blind being ¾ down, you understand. I doubt it was
Sarah because the matching, aubergine-coloured waist behind them looked a
little too full.
It could be, of course, that she’s simply gone off me as a
result of my pejorative attitude to New York.
Maybe she has reason to take offence. You can never know these things, can you?
Talking of which...
Vis-à-vis my previous post: Content owner has, indeed,
disabled embedding (damn the little gobshite whoever he is,) so it might as
well come back off the playlist. But I would like it to be known, reference
certain lyrics contained within the song, that however lonesome I became, and however severely bled by a New York City
winter, the whores on 7th Ave
would still be kept well beyond arm’s reach. Some people just give in too
easily.
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