This morning I discovered a hair
growing on the tip of my nose.
I’ve always cast myself as the bearer of
an unblemished nose, attractive even,
in the manner of those perfectly
symmetrical marble appendages
adorning the gods of Rome.
Oh well.
Tweezers flashed.
Pilus expelled. Antinous again, sure enough;
but the nose reneged its place
and refused to cede to vacuous
space the foreground of my
Clever nose.
It sensed, in a whiff that wafted on
the noontime breeze from across
the expanse of time to,
emerge from my neighbour’s kitchen window,
the redolence of school meals.
I am sent.
An eternal instant: I’m a happy,
clever and extremely cute little boy,
standing eagerly in line in my grey
short pants and pullover, holding
my dinner plate and breathing
deeply the delicious aroma of
cheese pie ‘n’ chips, now
transmuted into
the poignant essence of
Yes, my neighbours cooking can
certainly get the juices flowing!

The "Lansdowne Antinous" Image: Wikipedia Click on image to visit

The “Lansdowne Antinous”
Image: Wikipedia
Click on image to visit


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