At last, this marmaladic world of mine!

The reason why George Kennedy woke up under the goldened papel glacé of the sky is unclear

but yeah:


it was an universe of marmalade
his solid jaws seemed to drop from his face





the sinusoidal orange waves crossed through his nostrils like the cold smog of our yesterdays used to


do you remember?









The old Limahl park was now an iridescent mattress of citric gold and sweetened nicotine




the people seemed to walk over the marmaladaic softness with their indistinct gesture and hurried pace


as always.







Like a yellowed flash entering the corner of his eye he saw her, suddenly:

Suzy dear wore an electric blue scarf, lost amongst an autumn crowd that never knew



that never knew George Kennedy.




From two municipal speakers that shone like filter of Chesterfield 100's, an old song sounded through the caramelized air:

"...It's almost the deadline

don't miss the deadline, darling

consequences are easily misconstrued

don't miss the deadl..."

In a plis plas of yellowed Polaroid or crystal entering the corner of my eye I saw him, suddenly:

and I observed a George Kennedy, who I never knew, getting asphyxiated at the open orangish air


agoraphobia?










This is when a left noise of cracked woods and water passing under feet was heard in my ears




this is when the oblong imago disappeared dissolved in its own tangerine glow
























...as the bicycles of the bergamot afternoon go by


and by.