An Ancient Dialogue

            Me (my thoughts as I reminisce of a forgotten evening with my long lost love Sylvia)             :  " Sing and dance with me oh darling, in the still quaint night,..rain scuttling off the mud layered chimney, stays lingering, then gradually slides down to the lower balcony. We reside upon candlelight this provincial evening. The heat from the imitation fireplace  provides a sarcastic ambiance,.which I feel most  oblidged to be part of. Love is a melodical privledge that I dare to share with you,.oh dark princess of the deep blue  mediterranean"
                 Sir Arthur Jenkins Sr. (a malicious prince who yearns for the distance between my love Sylvia's pale milky thighs,.these are his thoughts)         :  "Where viscious gulls do conspire to steal your inner tranquillity,Shoeless,.a woman who did not partake in socks,  Slipping barefoot now, down at the ocean's beak. Embrace the bird shaped mailbox,.a recipient of the piecemeal suburban terrain. The languid social security check woman, with the librarian warped spectacles, and the invalid credit card. Mail on Sundays where I'm from,.and you, oh female of exquisite beauty, and wondrous hobbies. Assembling model airplanes in your dead husband's mahogany den,. we do find ourselves domesticated below the Summer attics of exclusive pastimes."
             Sir Arthur Jenkins Sr also:  "  Erotic daughter of passionate disobedience. Parade around town in your confused hoody. And revealing pantyhose. Exhibiting the feline qualities of your well recieved mother's appearance. Lust,..and criminals to desire the feathered routine of your daily endeavors. I (unlike my naive fellows) make it clear my interest in fondling hats that consist of a specific fabric. My will tends to soften with the deep rooted clutch of the velvet sparrow,.that nests on a towering branch upon the epic oak, in the neighbors backyard."
                   Me:       "Sylvia,.oh Sylvia. Do not paint your toenails at dusk,.along with the others. How mischievous the natives have grown! Hark!, of the ancient lantern! Then that must be dried oatmeal stains that soiled my withered trousers! I should have known the troubadors kingdom was at stake,.you of a cunning,..loyal bewilderment! Take heed upon the vacant doorways of Melroy!,.bah! Someone has ran off with my virginity again! "
                 Sylvia: "Relax oh sordid primitive one of naive trivial despair. " 
                  Me: " Perhaps you're accurate with your premonitions of my Aunt Beatrice's Easter invitations,..she probably does want us to go to her and Fat Joey's condo"
                 Sylvia: "Sleep oh dangerous restless horse of Fuck not"
 
                                                        THE END