What are you doing? said Pablo. I’m hitting some grounders, said Bonny, Ditto wants to become the next Dustin Pedroia.
No, said Bonny, I didn’t know Dustin Pedroia won the gold glove at secondbase last year. Really? Twenty-one homeruns and twenty-six stolen bases? And ninety-one RBI’s? That’s a lot for a secondbaseman. No, I don’t think you’re taller than he is.
And they gathered and said,
“Speak to us of Jacques Derrida.”
And Blurtso replied:
“A koan is an utterance that is devoid of logic.”
The pattern persists,
while the parts come and go.
I didn’t know you were Irish, said Pablo. Actually, said Bonny, I’m Irish, Scottish, Welsh, and English. My oldest ancestors arrived in the Isles around 400 B.C. and lived in all the various regions. I used to celebrate Saint Andrew’s Day on November 30th, Saint David’s Day on March 1st, and Saint George’s Day on April 23rd, but now I celebrate them all on Saint Patrick’s Day on March 17th. Does that mean you have to drink four times as much beer? said Blurtso.
“By yon bonny banks and by yon bonny brays…”
What are you looking at? said Harlan. There’s a crack in one of the window panes, said Blurtso. Is there? said Harlan. Yes, said Blurtso, a hairline crack in the bottom-right corner of the left door. So there is, said Harlan. It makes you think about the rest of the glass, said Blurtso, and the other panes that are still intact. Yes it does, said Harlan. Glass is an amazing thing, said Blurtso. It’s made of sand, said Harlan. Is it? said Blurtso. Yes, said Harlan, quartz sand that has been heated to over 4,000 degrees fahrenheit. I didn’t know that, said Blurtso. Glass is often overlooked, said Harlan. Yes it is, said Blurtso, until it has a crack. Do you think it should be replaced? said Harlan. I don’t know, said Blurtso, the windows are laminated so it probably won’t spread. Oh yes, said Harlan, I forgot. And we might miss the crack, said Blurtso, when it’s gone. Yes, said Harlan, and lose our appreciation for the panes that are not cracked.
What’s that you’ve been writing? said Alex. It’s a collection of poems, said Blurtso. A collection? said Alex. Yes, said Blurtso, for Lizzy. I’m calling it, Graham Cracker Crumbs. Why? said Alex. Because when I see her pass, said Blurtso, and then she’s gone, I feel as empty as an empty pie tin. Oh, said Alex, and the poems are the crumbs that remain? Yes, said Blurtso, the remnants of my lost rapture. Can I hear one? said Alex. Sure, said Blurtso, this is about the time I saw her limping across campus. I call it, “O my love limps so!”
“O my love limps so!
“The birds were sweetly chirping
and the grass was growing green,
as I waited on my bench
for the jenny of my dreams.
While the shadows slowly passed,
not a vision did I spy,
‘til suddenly across the grass,
a limping caught my eye.
My love is sorely stricken,
she’s suff’ring and distressed!
Her left rear hoof is lagging,
is lagging behind the rest!
Oh lovely injured unguis!
Oh tender cloven pes!
Of late so sweet enticing,
now dragging on the grass.
Oh ass! Oh hoof! Oh ankle
so twisted and exposed!
The pain that’s in your heel
pricks the loving heart that knows!
That’s very good, said Alex, but what’s an “unguis”? “Unguis,” said Blurtso, is the Latin word for hoof. What about “pes”? said Alex. “Pes” is the Latin word for foot. Oh, said Alex, I guess Latin’s not very poetic. No, said Blurtso, I guess not.