put on your chapeau sir

...put on your chapeau sir while we take a walk. we won't be going far today, because it's a bit nippy out and i'd rather not stay out to long, lest we get a chill and are bedridden because of our follies. right then, let's go.

onto broadway we step, which is ironically quite a narrow street and doesn't go anywhere because it's a cul-de-sac. no matter, we traverse each step along the sidewalk carefully, lest we sever our mother's delicate c-spine by marching on a crack. actually, i don't really care because my mother's passed, but you should watch where you tred. yes, i guess you're right, it doesn't really matter.

where are we going? you'll see. you know ezra pound wrote a brilliant piece that captured this weather? you'd like to hear it? ha! inversion at its finest:

Winter is icummen in,
Lhude sing Goddamm.
Raineth drop and staineth slop,
And how the wind doth ramm!
Sing: Goddamm.

Skiddeth bus and sloppeth us,
An ague hath my ham.
Freezeth river, turneth liver,
Damn you, sing: Goddamm.

nasty bit, ain't it? perfect though, i won't argue that. curses it's freezing out tonight. ah, here we are now, the bridge. have you seen it at night? no? well some nights there's this fog that carries for miles along the water, they say that nature copied seurat's evening, honfleur and put it here. magnificent, wouldn't you say?

ha ha i never understood that line either, an ague hath my ham. is your sweet meat diseased, or deceased? or deceased because it's diseased? yes, i suppose that's not really funny. well try this on for size then:

The apparition of these faces in the crowd:
Petals on a wet, black bough.

we are ghosts you and i, though i fancy myself more as a messenger rather than a wanderer. i can be the apparition and you can be the petal. this river here can be the bough, if you get my drift. no pun, i swear!

what's that? yes, i suppose i should be getting back. don't suppose i grate your nerves, do i? haw haw well at least you're honest! say, that's all you need right? just jump off about here and the frigid ice water should do the rest. they won't find you till mid morning at least, the fog will keep them away. go on then, good luck.

thanks, i will have a nice life.

SO:
back i march, and under my breath i say:
Sing goddamm, damm, sing Goddamm.
Sing goddamm, sing goddamm, DAMM.