One day the Nouns were clustered in the street.
An Adjective walked by, with her dark beauty.
The Nouns were struck, moved, changed.
The next day a Verb drove up, and created the Sentence.
Each Sentence says one thing—for example, “Although it was a dark
rainy day when the Adjective walked by, I shall remember the pure
and sweet _expression on her face until the day I perish from the
green, effective earth.”
Or, “Will you please close the window, Andrew?”
Or, for example, “Thank you, the pink pot of flowers on the window
sill has changed color recently to a light yellow, due to the heat from
the boiler factory which exists nearby.”
In the springtime the Sentences and the Nouns lay silently on the grass.
A lonely Conjunction here and there would call, “And! But!”
But the Adjective did not emerge.
As the adjective is lost in the sentence,
So I am lost in your eyes, ears, nose, and throat–
You have enchanted me with a single kiss
Which can never be undone
Until the destruction of language.
You might say that I am a fan of declarations of love which meander through the mundane before confessing their fondest feelings. “Thunder Road” by Bruce Springsteen is perhaps my favorite song mostly because of the line “You ain’t a beauty, but yeah, you’re all right.” It may be the type of people I’m attracted to, or it may just be the unrealistic expectations scripted drama creates, but I find most declarations of love in my past to be something along the lines of the following: “Did you get the peanut butter at the store? Shall we go to see that play? When was the last time we cleaned the house? Have I mentioned that I find you quite attractive and I love you? When do I get to have a new job?”
I also love the idea of the parts of speech having a whole lives we don’t know about. Can’t you picture the nouns, pimply and with poor posture, standing together near a streetlight? And the poor conjunctions, what of their fate?