my dress is hung

back in Pasadena.

A little tired and a little and bruised and scraped on one side, but otherwise perfectly happy.

You’ll have to ask me in person about the adventures and revelations.  My sincere apologies to those of you who can’t;  I’m starved for looking into faces that I love.

~ ~ ~

N: “Did you return the motorbike?”

E: “Yessir, I did.”

“Did they charge you for the damages?”

“Pshh.  No.  What damages?”

“Well, why are you all scraped up?”

“I got into a tussle with a Frenchman—they’re tougher than they look.”

What?”

“I mean, there wasn’t any damage.  The key was bent is all.”

“And how did that happen?”

“I have no idea.”

3 thoughts on “my dress is hung

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s