The type of blonde I could have been dreaming about

Looking out the window, I felt the crisp subterfuge of melancholy covering my senses. A dull calm had spread over the cityscape. Branches tittered in a bunch, the air laden with possibility of rains. Cuddling couples had resumed their late night strolls and I had resumed my pelting of cuddling couples on late night strolls with rotten pineapple slices.

In other words, the universe seemed to have regained its composure and seemed suitably behaved.

Suddenly the light on my cell phone flickered announcing the arrival of a text message. I halted the fruit-flinging to check the contents of this message.

“Want to talk to the hot blonde you were thinking about last night? Call at 52222. Rs 6 per minute. All types of hots and blondes. Also other types. CALL NOW!”

So, I typed – with acute vigor and diligence-  the first four lines of  Rilke’s Spaziergang and sent it to that number. No types of blondes or “other types” have called back but I haven’t yet let go of the train of Hope’s dusty gown.