Without Punctuation

I was so scared on my bike that day in the spring while the white clouds rolled overhead and the storm clouds were held at bay by the fierce heat of the noonday sun that had blossomed so beautifully that morning after the starlit night filled with the sounds of insects and coyotes off in the distance calling to one another announcing their presence to one and all while at the same time throwing a scare into the children who had already been warned by their parents that they should close their eyes and fall asleep since they had school in the morning and chores to do before breakfast as well as walking the mile on the gravelly path to the bus stop and waiting for the bearded bus driver who was inevitably late on Wednesdays but never on Tuesdays for some odd reason that everyone speculated about but no one knew that the real reason for Jim to be late on Wednesdays was that he stayed up late on Tuesdays reading James Joyce’s Ulysses to his Persian cat named Scheherazade who always sat quietly on his lap purring softly at the turn of each page never once arching her back or hissing regardless of the odd occurrences recounted by her faithful owner of over ten years who always warmed her milk on the wood stove in the corner before placing it in the blue saucer that had once been part of a set used by the queen before all the other pieces had been destroyed in a pique of anger when the dog barked at the gardener who had inadvertently entered the room when the queen was talking to the ambassador from a third world country late in the fall of the previous year regarding the importance of grain imports…

To Be Continued…


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