Quieting

12/24/18

The funeral pyre was set. The match was in hand. But wait- corny. 

A white plume of smoke from nowhere morphed into a dove, white at first then sky blue.  A smoky-voiced young girl spoke animatedly to her silent friend. One too loud one too soft. They morphed into doves flying to safety in the Himalayas.

A brown bear nursed her cubs. They won the World Series. Indians returned to

Cleveland by way of Calcutta making a short detour to new deli for a corned beef on rye extra pickles please. Thank you very much.

Mayonnaise was always repulsive to him. Him? Who's that? The protagonist you idiot. Oh, this has a plot? I didn't say that. Stream of consciousness. Stream of piss anger not rage more like why the... can't my mind shut up?

I could work on quieting myself.