LEN LIPPMAN

(On a very, very parenthetical day in a very, very parenthetical world, the dawn was dawning. The sun was sunning, the birds were birding, and the man was waking. In greetings to the new day, the man began to sing a song. And a very parenthetical song it was. For it had no words. No words, no tune -- indeed no sound at all... Having greeted the new day in his fashion, the man rolled over to greet his wife, to introduce her to the new day in all its splendor. As he rolled over, turned over, repositioned, however, his gaze fell upon the conspicuous emptiness beside him. It was then that he recalled, with the most parenthetical of recollections and the most parenthetical of emotions, that he was not married, had no wife, never had... As he swung his legs around to one side to facilitate the immediacy of his immediate rising from his immediate, prone, lying-in-bed position, the very, very restrictive, very, very parenthetical detail became very, very unparenthetically apparent. His legs,..