"It's raining in Venice, where I'm at a diner with my girlfriend on my birthday.
That's when she tells me she has to get something from her car. Would be plastic horse, $5, or plastic doll?
When she returns her hair is wet; it drives me to distraction. I study the reflection, wounding and bittersweet...
or sporty. Picture this: uncommon year, uncommon legs went to strawberry salt in the grass.
And if she herself saw anything besides weeds? I felt moved. Lacquered green cabinets shimmer
in my vision, versus her always cherry red. But our lawyers advise against it.
We will see soon that the 'action' does not occur in time but in eternity. My problem now is
where to find yesterday's taste. Your kind inquiry is much appreciated."
Egg = new life, apple = life