In The Parlance

_ It's a big world out there.

_ Does simplicity ever go out of style?

_ It's almost unwieldy... How can something ever-present be either in style or out of style?

_ Focus... one's focus, my friend. Style is always in style. Apart from that things gets pretty complicated. Proffer, aspire, attain... or not,  and be either underwhelmed or disappointed... To fall short in the futile quest of an image proffered and to be then overwhelmed by your disappointment; to suffer, to identify with the lack of something nowhere to be found... To lack... A pity, indeed. How can we be, and yet lack? Simplicity defines style.

_ What makes a woman beautiful?

_ The fact that she, whomever she is, is not you.

_ So... You're facing the big kaputski... How now, brown cow?

_ Kaputski. I stay; you go. Simple enough?

_ If it ain't simple, it ain't simple enough.

_ Simple supports style. The rest - complications -  all come so fast and furious... complications having neither the substance nor the sustainability of the simple. They are destined to fade away - kaputski.

_ Is it fatal? Is your cancer going to be the end of you?

_ It doesn't matter. Nothing that is subject to change matters. I took that word 'cancer' into the place that doesn't let things out; this is the place of knowing; this is abiding. Cancer... blah, blah, fucking blah... Big deal, right?... This world hasn't been the greatest fit, conversationally; however, the living experience is always hand in glove, in the non-conversational parlance of eternal silence. I get to dance with fear - she's the one who done brung me; and it is she who goes to the pyre. And may the flames reach the Sun, for my true love awaits, clad in homespun - my place of knowing.

_ It's been like a stone in your shoe, right? This world... right?

_ You know of any other?

_ Well, there's one the ancients speak of wherein it's eat, drink and be merry.

_ Isn't there a few more syllables to that phrase? Something along the lines of "... for tomorrow we die"?

_ I'm not a fan of melodrama; I'm just an old song and dance man.

_ The back of my hand to ye... I am; and that train never leaves the station, nor is it ever late. I am; the echo is coincidental with the mouthing. I am; it's more than the greatest and less than the least. The synapse of one; omnipotent, omniscient and immutable.

_ So it is like a stone in your shoe... I suspected as much... We are the ancients... all of them... I can't argue with that... In the same manner that the Yankees will always be the Yankees, no matter who is wearing the uniform, so, too, we are the ancients hinted at in yesterdays tomorrow. I don't know of anyone who'll actually come out and say that pinstripes have fallen into disfavor with the dictates of style.

_ Sure...

_ A strange calm has fallen over us, Machu Pichu. Shall we repair to the hall of things unverifiable? Shall we sip the drink of the Mayans and dream of our days as beachcombers on the Sun? Shall we have chai?

_ It's like nothing ever happened.

                                                                  *************

... And nothing did ever happen, like two dogs barking at nothing. Is that happening?

... I am...

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