Conversation With Myself This Rainy Afternoon C/C?

The hundreds, the thousands, of people we've encountered promenade through rue de Hippocampus and sometimes sit at a table in the Limbic System cafe, signaling for service.

Who was the man who once saw a young woman dressed in white on a passing boat, and remembered her all his life?

You've painted a strong picture of a person here while contemplating the vagaries of memory. We want to turn and ask someone, "Do you remember the man who lived across the street when we were young? Do you remember the woman with the hats? Do you remember...? Do you remember?"

And often there is no one there to ask.

But now we can share your memories of Bernadette Marie Olivera the Third.

I might change Line 8, from "your" boat to "Bob's" boat, to direct the conversation towards the reader instead of leaving the reader as eavesdropper. Both ways are good, though.

My favorite line is 'could make fish sing on your tongue'...amazing image, as is 'all amazed she landed a job at the Post Office'.. now this is poetry, and good to the last line.

Many should take note of this and learn.

Keep talking to yourself if this is what comes out. She was colourful, entertaining, fiery, salt of the earth. I'm not surprised you can't forget her. Neither will I. A great read Gem.

I'm not a dream

Not and angel

I'm a man

You're not a queen

Your a woman take my hand...

The sun is bright here and I am sitting on the iPhone wasting time better spent weeding the garden.

Remarkable piece you've written there. Reads like reality, or maybe it is non-fiction, either way it has the unlikely quality that infests all true things.

Your words:

((( Dumb as a box of rocks but oh so so sweet.

Her friends amazed she landed a job )))

I do not understand; (sometimes I have to admit that).

Blame naught gods, because I am not that much of a good reader to comprehend everything I read; (especially in Yaps). What is wrong with New England, Falmouth (which is in Cape Cod), and a Portuguese working woman?

I guess the broken-lines-free verse style is beyond me.

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Sounds like a conversation happening in the clouds.

Lofty.

I enjoyed it.

I'd like to try this Wright's bacon you speak of...

Link?

Mah' conversashun on some Rainy afternoon:

I'm fum de west side.

How waaay coo' am I?

I wants' some noodles?

I'm so's tired.