Open 4

100_1881
See if anything comes of these eleven words. And let us know. Here’s the list:
pizza, side street, rain, eyeballs,
Ezra Pound,
crowded,
killed,
slightly,
radio,
tiny, and
circus.

That’s your mission, if you choose to accept it. And have a happy new year!

4 comments

  1. She leads me down a side street. Alley more like it. We walk between backdoors and rubbishbins, a world still glossy with rain. “Are you sure there’s a pizza place down here?” She just smiles. And there is of course, tucked in an alcove, a small doorway crowded with warm light, the smell of roasting garlic and tomatoes.
    She has arranged her topping into a host of tiny charicatures, with olive eyeballs and anchovy moustaches, and killed them one by one with her fork. It isn’t hard to believe that she was a circus performer, but I would have put my money on clownery, not trapeze.
    In the kitchen a radio splutters into life, crackled, and then settles onto something… Italian. Is there even a radio station that plays Italian music? Across the table she is waving one of the olives around, speared on her fork. “I consider myself more of a poet,” she announces. “A sort of aerial Ezra Pound… a Goddess of the winged shoe…’Bah! I have sung women in three cities, and I will sing of the sun…’ Yeah, she was cool. I think when I – ”
    “He,” I murmur. “What?” She stops, olive poised in the air. “Ezra Pound. He was a man.” “Oh,” she says, and bites into the olive. “I thought it sounded like a lesbian name.” I laugh with her, but I’m secretly impressed by the mangled quotes.
    Her pizza has been stripped to a circle of bread, with traces of tomato and the crisscrossings of fork tracks. “They have tiramisu,” she grins. “Or I know a place that does a divine baklava…”

  2. Eating pizza on a side street café in a NOLA rain, I noticed eyeballs ogling the lead singer from Better Than Ezra, pounding on his table “hurry up!” to the waitress commanding the crowd. I could have killed him – like, slightly! I’ve heard him on the radio and I don’t EVEN remember him. I bet his dick is so tiny, the circus’d recruit him for it.

  3. It has never made me a single friend to offer an opinion on Ezra Pound,
    but the fact is I’d rather eat pineapple pizza, go to the circus without a child, or lay my tongue down flat on a New Orleans side street…

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