A Visit From The Vague Angels of Vagary

I knew nothing of the myth of the Kievan Rus’ or the Jews of Birobidkhan or the Tuvans’ troubled booze, so I set my eyes on train tracked tundra spanning two continents, I mean pages, and I perused. When I awoke I was in the Ukraine, I mean Greenpoint, on the “G” so I swapped encyclopedias and leafed to IRT thinking it would say WPA or “The Great Mistake” when Brooklyn lost its City. Instead, nothing of the sort, no nothing even short, so I searched the web and as history ebbed I came up with only last year’s maps and MTA delay reports. The lack of info wore me out and once again I could not contend with my couch. This time when my eyes shut I was waiting with Keili on a platform underground and y’know what she had the gall to say to me? She said, “A tryst is not a trip unless it’s a tour not a skip” which negates the brief boulevardier and the romantic rue which is untrue which she knew, but she chooses to be stupid because she’s stupid through and through. Jen claims she’s too dumb to be manipulative so she’s a liar and a sneak. Henrietta can’t stand her too but has to work with her twice a week. That’s it, that nap was my last, afraid of what the next might bring, so I changed my shirt, unlocked my bike, and peddled across the bridge just in time to meet my girlfriend as she tallied up her ring. I was happy to see her that night and she was happy to fix me a drink.