The geisha floated by in a break neck posture, her head rotating with a voluble of "Vrrrr", a vacuum buzz. I remained puzzled as to who, incidentally, she might be, and why a china doll had the bulbous, greasy scales of a crocodile. Each time she passed her the slurping, granite impasse of her dragging grew more sickening. Plus, the small tinfoil hexagons of her scales weren't even consistently shaped.

They were tricks, shedding Rorschach puzzles darkening in a slow hiss on me, the somnambulist. Her midsection was a series of hypnagogic laces with a mini hand fan that stuck together in ripples of cryogenic moths littered with pond water spots, tracing letters in dribbling gold filigree.

She became hypnotic. I had the sort of fixation one has..as with a slowly exposing set of glass teeth bearing your high school locker number kneaded in ink-stained kneads of white larvae. I pulled my eyelashes till they were bits of licorice and my eyes went belly up in my head. The organ's numerology shone in the felt cobalt Chinoiseries I had been gluing to my ceiling most of this week. Wednesdays were the worst; I had to leave her in the freezer.

“Goodbye”, I whispered, already aware that she was gone."