Come July I knew the noctilucent ghost would appear, only showing itself at midnight in the dead heat of summer. Speaking archaic tongues, dressed in garb from another time, the ghost only said one thing I could understand but I took it as an omen and kept it close to my heart: “I pooped myself….I pooooooooooped myself…”
The noctilucent fireflies of June flew to and fro, their bioluminescent bodies sending streaks of light through the faded sky–it was the kind of archaic beauty that could be found in simpler times. My repertoire was interrupted, however, once a man in a golden diaper began running through the field, mason jar in hand, and chanting, “Diapers rules; Diapers rules; Diapers rules!”
Mary tired of Joseph’s archaic ritual of treating his testicles as some rare noctilucent creature; she longed to teabag in the longer, crisp nights of fall, by the roaring fire on icy winter nights, and most of all, on top of an easter basket, celebrating jesus and bunny rabbits in spring.
-wrights less smalls
Some may consider it archaic, but last night I turned off the a/c and stayed cool the old fashioned way: sat in a bucket of ice by the river and took in the noctilucent wonderment all around me.