An Intrinsic Exquisite

perhaps reality

acts through imagination



she plopped her butt, what she considered her considerable butt
into the heat and cold comfort of the nice hot bath as the rain beat it's rhythms on the roof and windows

"Oh, God," she thought," I am always Titania, in love with an ass."

"Couldn't I once, just once wake up to face a man?"

her mind slid down that slippery slope:
or are all men asses
and it's the limitation of my imagination
and my ability to compromise that's the problem?

she slid her head completely under the water and began to sing, "Oh lover man, oh where can you be?"

bubble, bubble, bubble