Stating The Irrelevant

It was like one phone call in the life of a beautiful woman,

which is to say, nothing.

It cannot be overstressed, the irrelevancy of this.

It was absolutely inconsequential.

And If anything should ever be left unsaid, this is it.

I practically forget it now.

She opened her legs like the two halves of a nut cracker,

hinged beyond the point of action,

and I, being the mere essence of hazelnut, entered.

Then, CRACK! It was over.

The seed jumped out, the hull fell away,

the insatiable silver thighs opened and closed anew,

and life went on without Saint Filbert.

She must live for Christmas, I say.