an image diary

"And if he left off dreaming about you, where do you suppose you'd be? ... You'd be nowhere. Why, you're only a sort of thing in his dream! If that there King was to wake you'd go out -- bang! -- just like a candle!"

"Hush! You'll be waking him, I'm afraid, if you make so much noise."

"Well it's no use your talking about waking him when you're only one of the things in his dream. You know very well you're not real."

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

postcard from the road #3: towel poetry

In a glass frame by the sink:

I'm a thirsty towel, without stains or tears, put here for your use by a staff who cares. There are 3 sets of me on the towel rack; and the office has extra for pool and deck. If you must take me home, if my softness entices, please ask at the desk for a list of my prices. I hope you won't take me, I don't like to roam, they are good to me here--this is my home. Treat me like that and after awhile, I will have to retire to the old rag pile. Thank you for listening and taking the time to read my woeful little rhyme. The Best Western Wyota Inn wants to thank you too, we really appreciate nice people like you!

"and what is the use of a book...without pictures or conversations?"


[contact me: ghostwordeffigy@yahoo.com]

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