augury doggerel

Sunday, July 07, 2002

Land Without Women

The kid and her mother and her mother's mother are off to the sunny south. Fish swallows fish swallows fish. I have been left home with an unsexed cat, an allowance of eight dollars a day, and several emergency numbers in case, I suppose, I run out of numbers.

At work, as always, there are no women. The place is skimmed, watery, bluish.

And money is tight at the pub. The waitresses, being women, were the first to go. The bartender theoretically waits tables � working it out on paper, tracing arcs from kitchen to table to kitchen, writing fresh greetings and practicing them to himself � but he sits in a corner with the cook and watches television. Yesterday, for a change, they sat outside and watched women. None came in.


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