Well, it wasn’t so much a sex dream as a morning-after dream
of cutting Yoko’s dress off, cutting her dress. Chunks
of unusually thick hair came off with it. John sniffed
the pieces and thought about touching Paul—
both appropriately and inappropriately,
affectionately and coldly and angrily, in all places
and capacities. This isn’t easy to talk about—
the beehives and shift dresses of all those teenagers.
You don’t want to CREEP on them, even if they’re
all creepin’ on you, you know? Maybe you don’t.
You probably do. I think this is a pretty relatable
experience, but I guess I shouldn’t make assumptions
about your life and knowledge. The point is:
I am the Walrus. It’s time we all, collectively,
came out as the Walrus. Like at the end
of Spartacus, but instead it’s The Walrus.
And instead of defeating the Romans or whatever,
it’s the snarky lyrics of “Glass Onion.”
John, you are such a rebellious gladiator hero, thought Yoko.
“I know Yoko, I wear my hair long and grow
my beard ‘n pubes out even though the other Romans
think that’s so Athens, like, uh,” said John.
“Yeah, probably,” said Yoko, “That’s probably right.”
If John is Spartacus, then Yoko is the hot chick in Spartacus.
I don’t remember a hot chick but there must have been one.
The hot chicks are all the other wives, duh.
With blonde hair in the fashion of the times, and black eyeliner.
I actually heard John broke it with what’s-her-face
because she came home to find him in HER eyeliner. Lucky Yoko.
Yoko was always lucky, but that day was particularly lucky,
I think. That’s why she’s my favorite.
Jane Cope and Audra Puchalski met. (There were mouth-noises involved.) At the time of writing this bio, they are washing cat-pee off of clothes and preparing for snacks. (This pretty typical.) They are at work on a collaborative chapbook, Meats Of My Childhood.