The Royal Marriage Hits A Small Obstruction
    A rudderless boat carried a young woman named Vienna toward Vienna, artistically shuffling between high tragedy and a miscarriage of justice by the deft manipulations of abstract responsibilities and secret algorithms deeply rooted in the young lady’s profound connection to the boat, which had been constructed from her childhood bed, then lightly sprinkled with ivy in the shape of a green piano climbing up a wall and very nuanced in its evocation of the fading national coal industry, to which the young woman had been both patroness and whore for over 15 years.
        A keyless piano rolled down a hill, carrying a young man named Vienna away from Vienna, moving reductively between upward cultural pressure and the drag of scholarly irritation by the deft manipulation of comfortably spaced organs and the instant skepticism that clung sporadically to the young man’s parenthetical devotion to the fleeing piano, which had been constructed from a Turkish bath he had slept in when he was only a child, and given unassailable status with the addition of an embedded oboe in the shape of a rudderless boat pregnant with Napoleon’s Josephine and very nuanced in its evocation of a rural crossroad full of grey mule slippers.
        Let’s just sit here and wait for the end to arrive.