Out-of-Tune O
strich
In a zone, trying to understand my strange surroundings, I have trouble thinking and speaking at the same time. Afraid my words might sound like the mating call of an out-of-tune ostrich; I try talking nonchalantly, relying on style more than substance. “Don’t dance in the sun with butter on your head.”
Somehow Mia gets me, “Are you inviting me to lunch,” she asks. (From the Academy of Reality).