Sylvia Plath

Dialogue En Route

‘If only something would happen!’ sighed Eve, the elevator-girl ace, to Adam the arrogant matador as they shot past the forty-ninth floor in a rocketing vertical clockcase, fast as a fallible falcon. ‘I wish millionaire uncles and aunts would umbrella like liberal toadstools in a shower of Chanel, Dior gowns, filet mignon and walloping wines, a pack of philanthropical fools to indulge my extravagant wants. ’ Erect in his folderol cloak sham Adam the matador cried: ‘O may G-men all die of the choler, and my every chimerical dollar breed innumerable bills, bona fide: a hot hyperbolical joke!’ Said Eve: ‘I wish venomous nematodes were bewitched to assiduous lovers, each one an inveterate gallant with Valentino's crack technical talent for recreation down under the covers: erotic and elegant episodes. ’ Added Adam, that simian swell, with his modish opposable thumb: ‘O for ubiquitous free aphrodisiacs, and for pumpkins to purr into Cadillacs and voluptuous Venus to come waltzing up to me out of her cockle-shell. ’ Breaking through gravity's garrison, Eve, the elevator-girl ace, and Adam the arrogant matador shot past the ninety-fourth floor to corral the conundrum of space at its cryptic celestial origin. They both watched the barometer sink as the world swiveled round in its orbit and thousands were born and dropped dead, when, from the inane overhead (too quick for the pair to absorb it), came a gargantuan galactic wink.