Pablo is lucky, thought Blurtso. I think he and Bonny are in love. I’ve never been in love. Except with my friends. But this is different. The way he looks at her when she’s grazing. And the way she grazes when he’s looking at her. I wonder if anyone will ever look at me that way? Or graze that way, when I’m looking at them?

Hmmm, thought Blurtso, no more football. I wonder how much I can get for my TV?

I feel lonely, thought Blurtso. I guess that’s natural. Donkeys are herd animals. I haven't been in a herd for a while. Maybe I should go to the Mall. Or Harvard Square, which is almost the same thing.

   I can’t take credit, said Blurtso, for just being myself.

Michelangelo’s “David,” said the professor, is a perfect example of High Renaissance sculpture. Notice the powerful jaw-line, the proud nudity, the defiant glance…

            Hmmm, thought Blurtso, would you look at that.

 

I wonder how long it will snow? I can see a little bit of blue in the distance. A lot of blue is beautiful, but sometimes a little bit is more beautiful.

You can lead a horse to water, thought Blurtso, but you can’t expect him to be a dental hygienist.

I guess I should see Avatar 3D, thought Blurtso. Everyone’s talking about it. The theatre isn’t far, and it’s a good excuse for a walk.

 Oh boy! said Blurtso. Harvard's Blodgett swimming pool!

Welcome to my Greenhouse, said Pablo. Thank you, said Bonny. What are you growing? asked Bonny. Everything, said Pablo. I've got wheat grass, bermuda grass, alfalfa grass, and wild grass. Wow! said Bonny. This must be heaven! Would you like to graze? asked Pablo. I’d love to, said Bonny.

Three moons, swollen and swallowed, have marked the sky since last these eyes were warmed with words from thee. Terse and unbending in the ruffian wind... prow, mast, and rudder to his unsteady crew... only I, of all donkeys, know the willows that weep in your heart. My days unfold uncounted in the courtyard that has become my cloister. Arising at dawn, and following the sun’s course like a somnambulistic sprout, I wander from corner to corner, until my shrunken world slouches to shadow, and I mourn ‘til morn tugs at my tether anew. Sleepless, when the moon is full, I sit at my window, comforted that on the arms of the sea my sovereign espies the same orb in the same sky, and borrows, as the moon borrows light from the sun, strength from the star in his life that is me. My dearest of dear, mon cher Blurtseau, the prince importunes daily, promising my release from this courtly captivity, if only I will admit his advances. But fear not, mon cher, that the sad Soiselle who scribbles this assurance is any other than the one who showered you with kisses the day you departed, that dismal day, when the sun fled the sky to take refuge in my heart, granting me the courage and strength to stave off the dark tolling of these dungeon days…”

Hello, said the devil. Hello, said Blurtso. I see you’ve come to buy a trombone, said the devil. Have I? said Blurtso. You must have, said the devil. I don’t think I need a trombone, said Blurtso. You don’t? said the devil. I already have two, said Blurtso. Two trombones! said the devil, you must be very happy! Yes, said Blurtso, I am. Do you want to give me one of your trombones? asked the devil. Absolutely not, said Blurtso. You are happier with two trombones instead of one? said the devil. Yes, said Blurtso, I am fond of my trombones. Well, said the devil, if you are happier with two instead of one, it stands to reason that you would be happier with three instead of two. Yes, said Blurtso, that stands to reason. And if three makes you happier than two, four would make you happier than three. Four trombones? said Blurtso. Absolutely, said the devil, and five and six. I’m not sure, said Blurtso, there must be a point of diminishing trombones. Diminishing trombones? said the devil. When more becomes less, said Blurtso. More becomes less? said the devil, that makes no sense at all. I suppose it doesn’t, said Blurtso, admiring a trombone out of the corner of his eye.

Off I go! said Blurtso, streaking out the door. Places to go, things to do, I’d better pick up the pace, I’m late, late, late!

Giotto di Bondone, better known as Giotto, was an Italian painter and architect from Florence in the late Middle Ages. Considered the first in a line of great artists who contributed to the Italian Renaissance, his paintings and frescos glorify God and the Roman Catholic Church…

My dear Soiselle, wrote Blurtseau, the sea is surly and the day has expired, unremarked and replaced forever. The crew grow restless in their rocking cradle, and I retreat, hoping to find you in the ink on this page. Ma chère Soiselle, I am a root entangled, a dark stone in the flickering light. Not a month, two months pass before I am reborn in your arms, but a sleepless lifetime, a slow marching of shadows. And after the words, light, wind, fire, there are only lines, paper and ink, and the repetition of repetition. I can fill the page, synchronize the sounds, and between margins try to live, but it is impossible to paint your smile, or raise a rose, with emptiness. Ma chère Soiselle! The spark grows wild in the wind! The eyes flash from the fire! Then the flower returns to the root…

            Hmmm, thought Blurtso, would you look at that.

 

I wonder how long it will snow? It's really snowing hard. A donkey could get lost in this snow. A donkey should always carry a beeper.

        Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…
  

How old are you? said Bonny. I’m not sure, said Pablo. How old do you feel? said Blurtso. I feel quite young, said Pablo. A toast to my friend Pablo, said Blurtso. May he always be as young as he feels.

I’m sorry, said the flight attendant when Blurtso arrived at the gate. Passengers are allowed only one carry-on trombone.

            Hmmm, thought Blurtso, would you look at that.

 

I wonder how long it will snow? The roads are icy and the snow is dirty and brown. It must be beautiful somewhere. Maybe in the mountains or in a meadow with no snowmobiles. Yes, thought Blurtso, it must be beautiful somewhere.