He said that something happened over the weekend.
It wasn’t massive.
But it was an epiphany.
His feet were metaphorically cleansed.
He shouted for those near and far that misery revealed itself as temporary.
Claiming that the gloom and doom that had clung to his dailies like pollen on lungs
had slowly evaporated.
His mostly cloudy countenance suddenly revealed a clearing in the sky and all of the sad songs had reversed their meaning.
Except ‘Tonight’s the Night’
BLONDE ON BLONDE 