The meaning of the cabbage is key to the poem!
So much depends on the red wheelbarrow.
Every event must prefigure what is to come.
Is that strange or just a cleverly mysterious plot device?
Each friend an archetypal character.
The BFG. The Dory. The Snape.
The Matilda. The Helen of Troy.
The Pip. The Judas. The Merry and Pippin.
The Gandalf. The Gideon. The Brain.
The Cookie Monster. The Casanova…
When people change, it’s ‘character development’.
Taking the bus effects a change of scene.
Skip the pages of description; just let the senses awash.
The red plastic of the chair stands out in the warm room of people jostling, some sitting on smooth red plastic chairs murmuring their conversation, the room decorated with red streamers, filled with the smell of baking hors d’oeuvres from the red-hot oven, lighted with candles, the glow making shiny the red plastic of the chairs. Plastic red.
The protagonist of your own tale.
Both prouder and more humiliated.
The plot thickens, and you get stuck.
Empathizing with your own pain.
You can’t stop reading.
No sense of ending.
Feels postmodern excepting-
Everything is intertextual with the Word.
He said, He said.
I’m glad He said so for so many things.
My story would have been a mess.