Chapter 5: Dolly Dali Dalai Dollar Bill - Poem by rifka rebeccah
So, she read him another story.
Once upon a time, it began.
Then it ended without a worry.
He and they lived ever after.
'Happily, ' she never mentioned.
Perhaps, it wasn't a clause in the contract.
Or a pause in the film,
filled with popcorn- satisfying substitute for fiber.
Instant immortality, however, takes far longer.
'At least a week, ' Bill thought. Until he tried it.
'Not bad. Needs more salt butter and garlic, though.'
'Bill, ' she said. 'Don't move.
You'll go far far far farther further farthest
if you blow out all the street lights.
In the dark noone will see you.
Primo don is a dangerous job.'
'Don't move either, 'he answered.
'Weaver wither with a candle,
ever ever everlasting.
Stream, into my heartache.
Burst a blood vessel.
Waste an hour day or week month year decade.
Everlasting seems a bit tedious for my taste.
'Bill. I'm no liar.
No more than we are.
No less than they are.
In the daylight,
kerosine takes on a different quality
while it's substance remains the same.
'Don't forget, ' he rebutted,
'to buy another bag of buttered popcorn.
Better to bring me closer than to push away.'
Silence fell forward.
As for Bill, he clearly lightened up.
Of the following chapter,
she primarily made no attempt to moralise.
Dial M. Bill won't mind.
copyright@rifrebartworks2010. all rights reserved unless author gives permission to print or otherwise copy this text.
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