And what about all the things you forget every day?
Who did you say you are again?
Do you expect me to remember things like that?
Doesn’t forgetting allow us the joy of relearning things we’ve forgotten every day?
And who are you?
Who who?
Who who?
Won’t that policeman over there know your name?
Did you wake up in a Soho doorway?
Can we sleep at home tonight if we can get up and walk away?
Where to?
Well, how many roads must a man walk down before you can call him a man?
How many seas must a white dove sail before she sleeps in the sand?
How exactly are non-material things, such as answers, subject to the force of wind?
Is it some kind of metaphysical thing? Or, crap, should I say, metaphorical?
It is really a question of the difference between physical and phorical?
Is “phorical” even a word?
If “meta” is a prefix, then it must be, mustn’t it?
Which reminds me, I must ask is supercalifragilisticexpialadocious an adjective?
Isn’t it a case of antidisestablishmentarianism?
Would you believe that I learned to spell antidisestablishmentarianism in grade school? And would you believe that I also taught myself to spell hiphoptopamus?