Friday, February 25, 2005

In defined

As the rag sat considerably upon the cement stair edge, I observed the two geese flying northward overhead. The day was hot and wintery, as the policeman stared through the glass pane of the store window across the street. "Is that a crystal ball he's got there?" I wondered as my hair grew. There must be some kind of hill around here, indeed. Then the postman, oh so weathered and frank, sauntered by in an emotional high. "Hello!" he shouted, "have you got those blasted ears labeled yet!?" I don't know what he means. "What?" I said, looking rather frank myself. "Dashing! And all those cornbread couches can be set to relief."
Oh. This is quite enough. Let's all go outside or something.
No really.
Stand up, and walk downstairs, ignoring the hour on the clock by the wall, o[pen the guilded metal doorknob, take a few seconds, step out into the fresh copious atmosphere.
Ahh, isn't that better?
Well, you can either stay out here or go back to business. Why is that word spelled like "busyness?" perhaps, long ago, they meant it to mean in the state of being busy, but now, silly us, we misuse the word entirely.