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The Goops, they lick their fingers,
And the Goops, they lick their knives;
They spill their broth on the tablecloth,
Oh, they lead disgusting lives!
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Somehow, we turned into a street and found ourselves in Old Dacca, where we clearly didn’t belong.
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Sally called me Cyd Charisse, but the hairdo was the only resemblance.
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In Canada, new programs were suddenly in place for the unemployed and businesses. Schools closed, gatherings were progressively smaller. Everything was changed, reminding me that “normal” can dissipate overnight. I harbored a guilty thought—could world-on-pause be something good?
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Kids! Try this at home!
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I didn’t learn who McCarthy was until much later. And I know now why news is so important.
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Now that decision seems pre-ordained and perfect, as life never is--but it is for me.
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I don’t think the memory of that ever left her, written wordlessly in a scar on her heart.
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I just did an inventory: 81.
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<< Older posts
Table Manners: A Case Study
Prompted By Manners
/ Stories

Lessons from Old Dacca
Prompted By Inequality
/ Stories

Haircut in Istanbul
Prompted By Haircuts
/ Stories

Be Kind, Be Calm, Be Safe
Prompted By One Year of the Pandemic
/ Stories

Snap, Crackle, Pop
Prompted By Advertising Jingles and Slogans
/ Stories

Good Night and Good Luck Retroflash
Prompted By First Memory
/ Stories

Righteous persistence brings great rewards
Prompted By Reconnecting
/ Stories

We’d make a peach of a pair
Prompted By Valentine's Day
/ Stories

The 500 hats of Bartholomew Cubbins
Prompted By Hats
/ Stories
