The lady don't drink, the lady don't eat, the lady don't sleep, the lady don't shit.
I need to be a Goddess for at least once a year, she says.
A cigarette? The lady don't smoke. A tale on the ruins of Usher? The lady don't read.
Getting out in the garden for half a minute? The lady don't fart.
The lady don't fart? Well, I don't eat she says. What about A banana? I don't
eat bananas, she says. Eh, eh, A banana. I told you, I don't eat bananas, she says.
Godammit! Godammit! And I'm not a goddess! Her Blasphemy spoke. I'm not a Goddess!
Not a Goddess! Blasphemy spoke. Not a Goddess! Out in the garden! Ruins of York!
Corned fingertips! Sliced Shakespeare Sonnets! Headaches worse than you had!
Oh Oh Oh A Goddess not. Wouldn't Walter Mitty have smiled in ponderous wonder...