Absurd Romance

The windows are all steamed up. We can hardly see th -isness, rness and conkers on a string. Glib is shifts & Giggles? Games in the parlour. Eye Spy with my fat eye, Simon Says, Musical Chairs, a film spinning and a book opening. - through all the precipitation. A sound of grunting as rumplestilskin strokes the wheel and haybale. At night there is work to be done, spinning all sorts of yarns.

The sound of her voice carried like a siren from a fire truck on a burning effergy signed with the index finger as a yellow smiley. He copied her Grecian tones by inhaling balloons then blurting out silly things in high pitch voices. There is not all that much room in a bed with such a sensitive balloon.

Outside the garden is gleaming with dew from the days before s sticky rain. The soil in winter resembles sticky rice and the grass unravels like sushi sleeping bags. Their eyes rotate around the conveyor belt swilling around lovestuck. The melodies bang on next doors noisy neighbours.

She was hesitant at first, she soon got into the swing of things and hearts fluttered whenever they gelled up together. It was his heavy breath, she soon grew fond of that colloidal smell from his breath and loved his shiny teeth. In her bag pack she always carried lip gloss and menthol nasal spray. He on his travels carried in his fanny pack soaked almonds and slices of wrapped lemon cake. Comfort food he would caress on his way to earn a living. They both kept up with one another by sharing coded lingua franca. They had a shared lingo.

Wherever he spoke she smiled, a lot of people smile when he speaks. He is that kind of guy with a resonant voice that leaves people rattling for more. They both had an amazing skill of talking into the Mic at exactly the right distance. They both tried explaining but found solstice in each other's warm embrace. In his arms she felt cliche, his pockets she found comfort but questioned his choice of travel packs.

After a long hard day they both suffered from smelly arm pitts. They would bury themselves in each other's work and get home all tired and sweaty. A lot of this stuff they did not want you to know about. If you travel a mile with any of these people it's really not hard to miss the sweaty stench. Of course there is nothing wrong with a good days hard work on the photocopier. They emailed each other's shadow prints daily. Work was just another chance to share those tokens of love which every couple should openly do.

He opened her lips wide to let see what's inside her glossary and always found all sorts of sweet delights. She knew many words and in her head she possessed an arsenal of things to pull from that dictionary of theirs.

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