An Arator Of His Sweet Field
All his life he averted
the occhiale. His evil
eyes were a weapon never
used. He said to her,
You have always had such
beaux yesux. Over and
over, during each day he
would tell his wife she
had glorious eyes. She
had never needed to use
make-up on them. On one
evening she did. She was
going to a party thrown
by her office staff for
the manager who achieved
a promotion. That night
spinach was served into
his nightmares, and those
iniquitous eyes of his
looked at his wife and
she looked into his eyes
and she died of the terror
there in the bedroom of
le St. Vitus Dance, loose
and quivering, because she
knew what she did. Jacques
never released the might
of the ochialle again in
a dream or real life. She
never went to a festive
occassion again. Stayed
occupied with the Francois,
had a smile on her face.
