Where is it written that socks must match?
Should that picture over the couch pick up the green in the throw pillows?
Or should it clash loud enough to jar us awake and perturb our eyes?
Did Matisse’s painting register on the Richter scale when the polka dot wallpaper collided with the striped couch?
How would the couch feel if pictures were hung upside down?
What ever happened to beauty? Did I miss the obit?
Should words disappear on the page? Or should they call attention to themselves?
Why is it harder all the time to get up from the couch?
Did the jacarandas just bloom to rhyme with Peggy's alliterative purple pants?
Does apparel still oft proclaim the man?
Where are they now, those uniformed elevator operators, ushers and doormen?
Do men's suits make a statement as much as T-shirts, bumper stickers and tattoos?
Is it true that overnight my father didn’t wear a hat?
Why do some people slouch on their couch (like me) and others don’t?
Why are those hummingbirds (seen from my couch) refusing my feeder?
Did the parrots of South America speak the lost language of extinct tribes?
Where do dead birds go? Do they have a burial place like elephants?
Whatever happened to Sabu, the elephant boy, whom I saw in an old movie from couch-potato haze last week?
Where are those great Hollywood cinematographers who could light any face and make it gorgeous?
Why do today's actors walk into dark rooms with no lights except on their face... and barely?
When Freud fled Austria did he really take his couch along with all those dreams in its upholstery?
If couches could talk, would they?
What is the meaning of this? Won't you sit down?
No comments:
Post a Comment