| Steven: | My, my, my, how you’ve changed. |
| Kate: | You have too. |
| Steven: | Like count up to ten?. |
| Kate: | Hopefully my little tulips help you out. |
| Steven: | Please, please me! |
| Kate: | Like, venture capital? |
| Steven: | Countdown’s at nine, two feet hence, making this insufferable like waiting for events. You’ve changed my imagination, for the moment. |
| III. HOW ABOUT A VACATION? | |
| Steven: | What do you think, how about a vacation? |
| Kate: | Huh? |
| Steven: | Able-bodied purple and funerary lights! |
| Kate: | What? |
| Steven: | C’mon! Rosies by the posies, phalanx in the starfire – Las Vegas and Timbuktu – we’ll be the fashionbooks! Elaborate set-ups in the windows shelving all sorts of feline buckaroos, plain as day starlight on the way to Moulin Rouge, or Bombay! – We’ll be host of the Whorl of Foreign! We’ll swim naked in the bay! |
| Kate: | Huh? |
| Steven: | Little dolphins like gum droplets, rain washing the rain away, and you, and us on a wheezy brisket – off to Manhattan, or Cape Hattaras! Cheap software for you, you, all original! (I read about it in a poem.) |
