An Advantage

Rich Ives

Does this Victorian approach change anything, this past with its remaining anticipation? Or does it operate like cheerful things, a good pair of heels circumambient to a hairy hind-paw? Flounces aflutter. Little Blossom released from obligations to Mr. Nuzzly-Bum, Mr. Do-As-You-Please, Mr. Silky-Talk, Mr. Not-to-Worry.

Because people with shoulders worry about the shapes of their gowns.

Meanwhile the dog has grown horns. A nocturnal emission like the voice of the moon. Listen. Darken. Welcome mythic forms of circumstantial happiness. Even if my friend Eustace does not agree.

Followed by a deep mumbling tortuous boom of gastric delight. A fat frog in a well. Let him sing. Let the echoes of indulgence pleasure the ear with the nose’s disgust.

The dog turns and turns, trying to understand the nose’s advantage.

Little Blossom pees on the lawyer. “I’ve wetted less than my appetite for authority,” he tells the lawyer’s mother, after she signs the papers. “It’s a discovery not greatly honored although settling is cheaper than winning,” replies the mother.

It was a great and lucid affair of olfactory departure, which I will not describe in great detail. Though I could. I certainly could if I wanted to.

Twenty-three days ago today. That’s enough time to happen oh again and again.

Yes, this can be easily handled, this situation. But does it change anything?

Now I want to say that despite the disapproval of Eustace, I have befriended both Little Blossom and her mother and bedded the lawyer, who shall remain nameless at his own request.

A mouthful of spiders puts him at ease, his postures questioning like a prehistoric bird’s. He kept his lover’s fleas in a pillbox. None of them ever escaped.

Rich Ives lives on Camano Island in Puget Sound. He has received grants and awards from the National Endowment for the Arts, Artist Trust, Seattle Arts Commission and the Coordinating Council of Literary Magazines for his work in poetry, fiction, editing, publishing, translation and photography. His writing has appeared in Verse, North American Review, Dublin Quarterly, Massachusetts Review, Northwest Review, Quarterly West, Iowa Review, Poetry Northwest, Virginia Quarterly Review, Fiction Daily and many more. He is a winner of the Francis Locke Memorial Poetry Award from Bitter Oleander and has been nominated twice for the Best of the Web, three times for Best of the Net and six times for The Pushcart Prize. He is the 2012 winner of the Creative Nonfiction Prize from Thin Air magazine. Tunneling to the Moon, a book of days with a work for each day of the year, is available from Silenced Press, Sharpen, a fiction chapbook, is available form Newer York Press, and Light from a Small Brown Bird, a book of poems, is available from Bitter Oleander Press. He is also the winner of the What Books Press Fiction Competition, and his story collection, The Balloon Containing the Water Containing the Narrative Begins Leaking, is now available.  

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