from To Jerusalem, and Back,
You’ve spent the morning drawing Venn diagrams and tic-tac-toe grids while overhearing a kid tell her friend a strawberry is not a berry, but a banana is. You’re an apricot chai addict who eavesdrops on children who know too much about fruit. A pencil-wielding dropout from Mardi Gras College who sketches boxes on junk mail. The dumbest congressman still calls you even though he knows he’s dialing an unwelcome number. He claims to be an agent for impotent domains. Says he has dildomatic immunity. You entertain delusions about a sleepover invite from that actress on “Gilligan’s Island,” so you always answer the phone. Today, Congressman Dummkopf begs for donations to a museum where Adam and Eve joyride through Eden on matching Triceratops. A comfortable upgrade from the Stegosaur model with those pain-in-the-ass seats. You pledge a U. S. Grant. Then distract yourself by contemplating love apples and fruits covered with fur. You draw a Sudoku board, filling the squares with clementines and kumquats. Savoring the way kumquat tastes in your mouth but never questioning why you keep a photograph of Dawn Wells in your wallet. On the news, a possum spent the night eating jelly donuts in an Australian cafe. When discovered by the morning crew, the sot sprawled across a bed of crullers and fritters, belching through its eyes. In Germany, Lügenpresse is proclaimed the Worst Word of the Year. The lying media. And Congressman Dimwit introduces a bill to classify cherries as berries. Another to monitor fertility by swallowing surveillance cameras. You draw a donut spoiled by a marsupial bite and a crossword puzzle impersonating a scavenger hunt. The first clue is a six-letter word for a berry that can be repealed.