Faustus Festus Oscar

It is fairly clear, if not exactly concretely clear, or inscribed in stone tablets, push comes to shove.

Debtor prison prism long tall sally with a black, blue, black and blue, rhythm and blue soul revue, fellow travel inmate soulmate that Sally, would in the persona of a cartoon character of the Sunday funny section, Sally Forth, an earnest journalist, eager for the scoop, even the pooper scoop, hitting the streets, slowing at an intersection, for the best funnies were in the Sunday edition, in color, living color, all done in newsprint, understood as black and white.

Living together.

Piano keys, similarly.

Black and white bursting into color, poetically, through vitality and vigor, shake her, and shiver, down to the soul, which is not a black hole, necessarily. Black and white TV, give it some time, give it some brine, talk to it in a low reverent voice, kneeling, fiddling with its knobs, smacking it a good one, on its sides, vented for fuller clarity of the squaaa of its box, a rough and ready, heady, thriller horror, color erupts, as it should, in a Vyvyan, an OBE, a “white light” strained through a “prism”. An Oxford education going bumpety bump, as a bumper car or a pinball machine.

Put in your quarters, or spare change, silver, with perhaps far too much copper. Bear your coppertone arms, a cute bare bottom.