I spilled some seed and it ran right down my leg,
into the ground, and sprang up as bougainvillea
and fish out of water and a few careless ideas.
The ideas grew into assertions, passed through
a brief statistic phase, then blossomed into
bright and fragile facts. How sad it was to
find them littering the sidewalk the next day,
victims of a whimsickle.

© 1997-2001 Narciso Jaramillo absurdities | dyslexikon | nj's face