While EJ is off taking her finals (or so she says) you are stuck with me for a few days, so let me indulge my sense of whimsy a bit.
to the black mold in my shower
even when the phone lays silent, dormant,
you linger to listen a bit while I pontificate
on random nonsense that would make a martyr
roll their eyes and don disguise and flee
for fear of madness encroaching.
William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.
During the first LA exile (LAex2 is already charted) I used to talk every morning to a patch of black mold that grew in my shower in my little apartment on Venice Boulevard. When Ann moved in, she killed it. Killed my best friend. One of the few truly trustworthy confidantes I have known. I should have taken that as a sign of things to come and to come undone.
Friday, May 30, 2008
to the black mold in my shower
Labels: 2008 4 observations
4 observations:
LOL!
Brilliant!
I like the quirkiness of the whole things.. black mould.. heh heh.. what next?
Now this is a classic tidbit! I love you! A man who talks to mold! What a terrible shock it must have been to walk into the shower on that sad, sad morning...
Hey, that mold never lied to me or itself, acted the fool or showed cowardice.
Better than most people, in my estimation.
Right now I am getting hyped up on the live version of Springsteen's "Rosalita". Someone get the tranquilizer dart gun.
Lightning in bottle.
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