Talitha Cumi, or Samson and Duh-lighter.

They do, do in fact, in their own miseries tell us such beautiful and grand lies, with the evil purpose of strip-mining our hopes, psychic vampires, when all in the world that I've known to be strictly honest, Testarino, old bean, and these people, sending telegrams across the way to one called Terrazo, a familiar, one of the outer guard that patrols Guantanamo Bay, Guantanamera, and all, bean-sucking federali and all, and I take to the roads, "shine a light!" "shine a light!", hoping for my own freedom, my own liberty, that I ever happen to observe theirs, then maybe mine is not to far behind in the offing.

Erin, again, perhaps jury duty or some sundry other.  And they were showing Samson, arms extended pillar-to-pillar, body forming a crucifix symbol, and saying that was emblematic, one to destroy, and another later for the saving of all, in hope and love and mercy, and all the while, the droning of the beautiful lies from built-in audio and all--it occurred to me in the dim modern malaise, the buillobaise of hair-laden modern stew, the hodge podge, the potpourri, the ongoing conversation, that I should buy a sound bar and then treat myself to purest musics.

She was shooting at strangers, I thought, she didn't love at all.  And there were bounty hunters out there, after the boss's son, and all, a rich target, as it were, and not like he hadn't so often spread his own butt cheeks of his own volition, having them pour coins into him as if he were some kind of flesh-bag vessel, his own self.

Did I mention yet my own butthole?  So many ideas, one loses track, but its here of course, purse against seat fabric, here, and present and partly at least accounted for.

What gold-rimmed Virginia tobacco magnate could pluck such turtle doves, polly's, from their comfortable but unsure perches?  Where a good comedy routine has purchase I wot, some roadside funhouse in which she's removed part of her underwear before she came in, and keeps "touching-up" in what passes for a ladies room, and yes, I almost forgot it was all a question, and not an answer.

"Shine a light! Shine a light".  And "our hopes" they said, "nearly diminished!" And I said, "republic! We are all, combined into one Voltron of a humdrum thing, all together now, a populace and wide body of hope."

"We have yet a dismal kind of gloom, as if our own thoughts were made manifest", they said, ruefully, and I watched my familiars glancing to their own devices, what was pre-loaded, memes and advertisements, and it was taken to be something of a "spending of time" and an investment of attentions, where I had only my own thoughts, and a few stray glances at some cleavage or a thigh.

"Republic! Republic!"