Green Lights in the Cafe at the End of the Dock

Rabelais! Rabelais! Come, I've saved the best chair for you. Would you take tea? With milk! You are a queer fellow. Let me tell you of things of yesterday. It got off to a right slow start. I fed the chickens and milked the cow-yes!-and I gave a flower to the girl by the mill! Did I tell you I was living in the city now? Oh, yes, of course--you are sitting in my house! Heavens, the mind slips some times. Do you know that after this I read a few chapters of Johnson's "Rasselas"? Fantastic times--while eating soup and cheese crackers, you know. Yet I am a slow reader. Dear me. In the afternoon I processed some pictures of a rustic well that bubbled green water. We found it during the winter break, while we were down in South Dakota. The water was warm, but I was afraid of crayfish when picking small rocks. Crayfish! And then I got rassled up with chess, though it was time to go to an Arts council meeting, and I had to look at the variations of the Ruy Lopez opening, but this made me late for the opening of the meeting! And because I had a class shortly thereafter, I had to leave after but two presentations/pleas for funding. And because I didn't rudely leave in the middle of the last presentation I was late for my one and only class of the day, with a guest lecturer/poet Dennis Cooley (check out his work online)! So late I arrive and take a seat in the cozy St. John's faculty lounge. I say it is even more comfortable than the chair you are in. More milk? One second.
So we chatted and wrote on the topic of metaphor, quite good, all in all. Let me share some of my potential moon metaphors (which I will phrase in similie form for easy reading).
The moon is...
...a castonet
...a horse on a carosel
...hole #14
...a lost ring
...a forgotten word
...a water mill's wheel
...a footbag
...a ballet dancer
There you go, take a few of those and add them to your tea! Well, after the class was over, Cooley and three of us went out to Boston Pizza where I ordered the Smokey Mountain Spaghetti (or something like that). It was the biggest plate of spaghetti I have ever seen. So we talked on about poetry and sometimes hockey, and here and there the results of Monday's election, while the green night slowly enveloped us, and we were back in our beds, asleep.