riding in the horse-drawn carriage pop go my glasses. as i pop out of the carriage. 14 Spacial Avenue i walk into the Celestial Bar. glance for a seat near the bar counter. sit down on the angel wing-stuffed cushion. It was devilishly soft. crack,boom.pow,wop. turn around. and take a blurry look at the ravenous vultures and barbaric orges. now mr star-faced bartender pass me that bottle of absinthe, so that
I may become less absent minded and more aware. how did i see it? well what wishes to be unseen is always seen. but who am I?
I am none other than the absent drinker the son of man who dislikes apples but loves his oranges