Twice More, and Then Some

There’s no stopping some people. Twice more she said, and then we can consider the truth. And if it rains first? Well then in the morning we can collect the raindrops. All the ones that linger anyway. Collect them all and bring them carefully back inside. Polish them off, one by one, and display them together, a vast canvas of raindrops. And we’ll title it ‘Last Night’s Rain,’ or something equally prosaic. Do you know what happens when you start imagining things like that? It’s quite possible they don’t become any more or less likely. Then again, it’s equally possible that they do. I always wager on it making a difference. Otherwise what’s the point of imagination? I don’t want it to just be an escape. Especially since I quite often don’t want to escape there. Surrealism is a dangerous place to go running off to. Boundaries grow thin on that side. Some things are less substantial, some more. And what kind of an idea is it to escape to somewhere and not be better off? Frying pan? Fire? Somebody explain the difference. I’ll take frying pan anyday. If I’m gonna be burned alive, I’d at least like to turn into a half decent omelette. None of this half-baked shit.