Previously on Alphabetic Fish: the protagonist has vowed to renew himself, but has done very little except write his diary. He met an alien called Efedrina at the pharmacy. Part A is here, and Part B is here.
I thought I knew my purpose,
so clear it was:
books were pages I might turn
and never a moment
for artichokes I might deflower,
petal by petal,
dipped in lemon juice and oil.
Efedrina was impatient.
“Start the tea machine.”
“It’s called a kettle.”
“And the burnt-bread machine.”
“It’s a toaster.”
I followed the morning devotions,
and while the toast was burning,
my prevarication wavered
towards precarious decisiveness.
“I’m finished. I’m done with Alphabetic Fish.”
“What about me?”
I waved my arms about
in an undefinable gesture,
and knocked my tea over.
Corellas at sunset on a Christmas bush in my backyard, also flying on instagram and feebly on facebook.
4 thoughts on “alphabetic fish C”
Clarity of purpose… what’s that? 😉
It certainly takes a lot of effort to eat artichokes, petal by petal. The flower looks so otherworldly.
Thanks Magarisa. Clarity is a mystery.😸 Artichokes were a ritual I used to participate in at large tables with white lace tablecloths and silver cutlery. Now it’s instant noodles in the microwave. Somewhat photoshopped 🙀 but Christmas bushes are a delight.
I’ve just made the connection between Efedrina and ephedrine and that she announced her name while looking at labels on the farmacia shelf….I must be getting slow…..enjoying this series Steve and that “prevarication” and “precarious” rhyme!
Thanks, Jim. You’re not slow. When I was a child with asthma, it was what they gave me, that and adrenalin injections when things got serious. They had no real asthma treatments.