Oh, bray again, bright angel!
wherefore art thou Pablómeo?
Pablómeo sayest thee?
By such a name am I not that what I am…
but wouldst Pablo become Pablómeo…
if such be thine demand…
pale past be gone, faint future damned…
for thee this present present,
that be that I am!
My rose, my sun, my Pablómeo…
my faithful heart that beats,
a burro that’s called a burro,
by another name smells as sweet…
Today, said Bonny, we will focus on composition. A fortuitous
arrangement of figures can be quite expressive.
Well then, said the psychiatrist, what seems to be the problem? I can’t find Mister Ed, said Blurtso. Mister Ed? said the psychiatrist. The talking horse, said Blurtso. I see, said the psychiatrist, and how long have you been looking for him? I went all the way to California and back, said Blurtso, and he was nowhere to be found, though I did meet Rocinazo. Rocinazo? said the psychiatrist. Yes, said Blurtso, a distant relative of Don Quijote’s horse, Rocinante. I see, said the psychiatrist, and did you meet any other horses? Well, said Blurtso, I looked for Little Joe’s horse, Cochise, on the Ponderosa, but I couldn’t find him. And I would have liked to meet Zorro’s horse, Tornado, and of course the Lone Ranger’s horse, Silver, but most of all I wanted to meet Mister Ed. I see, said the psychiatrist. I think I can make a diagnosis. Really? said Blurtso. Yes, said the psychiatrist, I’m afraid you have a serious case of “horse envy.”
Sweeney Todd? said Blurtso. That’s an interesting name.
Doo dee doo dee doo, dee dee dee dee dee…
Whew! thought Blurtso. That was a close one!
He must have thought I was a pumpkin pie.
Wow! thought Blurtso. California sure got crowded! Maybe I should go for a walk… And so saying, he stepped out of his space, and started down the street.