k when k was k circa 2012 |
Monday 12 December 2016
lady of the table grapes
You were an endangered species, out of it, staring into your bowl of green seedless table grapes. And the weather outside was frightful. I asked you again about the backyard, and you said that you didn't grow up there, your eyelashes were too long. Nat King Cole came on the radio and I suddenly felt safer than I really was. You took out your personal fork and stabbed a grape dead. I could not make sense of you, all I knew was you had no manners and a predilection for round juicy fruits. I picked up my pen and wrote a letter to the devil, carefully, on a soft cotton sheet of medicated Kleenex... dear Satan, could you please make a home for our homicidal lady of the table grapes?
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