I dealt with the beltway
on my own terms, and it took
to the sky as does
a bird of grand proportions
(though not so grand as to
impede flight), streaking
across the blue hazards
on a trip to its Winter home
away from home, gliding
in surrender to the updrafts
and balmy climes to come.
Never get an arrogant person
in your headlights, or you’ll
be looking at some mean times
ahead of you. Scarcity and heavy
lumbering grizzly bears will find you
before long, and several elves
will beckon you to their tree hideaway.
They’ve dug out an apartment complex
under the roots, with accommodations
befitting a first-rate journalist
on a business trip. You won’t mind
going down there, but you’ll wonder
when you can come back out.
Space the Johnny Bill Landscaping Company,
we have no need for such expenditures
at this time anyway. Just leave them
on the curb, someone will pick them up eventually.
Help me out with this leather one,
they’re surprisingly slick. There,
up on the bed (queen size).
Thanks, let me buy you a deer.
Twittering smitters
done tapped out
onto my tarmac
while I had
the marbles cooling
and the pink daffodils
yearning for something
like the Sun (though
the Moon would
have to suffice).
They’re just sitting there
like a bunch of lawn
ornaments, like I’m supposed
to gawp at them and guffaw
in awe. You can forget it,
I won’t even
let them know
that I know
they’re here.
Attention hogs.
The esophagus is lined
with grape gelatin dessert,
not without floating grapes.
We need to eat our way
down to the stomach,
which is a bubbling lime concoction.
Once there, we’ll split up
into quadrants and begin our work.
I’ll take southwest, you three
duke it out amongst yourselves.
By the end of the journey,
we will have told
a million and one stories
about how old Grant Moon conquered
the people of the Moon
and other such exploits.
Oh, what a grand old time
it will have been.
Come to think of it,
we will want to have packed
some peanut butter sandwiches.
I will return having been embarrassed
because I forgot to pack them
even though I’d remembered
to make them.
Whatever means you have
to get the pigeon
on the wing
of the Eiffel Tower’s
little niece’s sweater’s shoulder,
please act appropriately and immediately.
You have to understand the pressure
we’re under here. I can’t bring myself
to breathe any deeper
than the treasure cabin
below my backseat
(by the antique coin collection
I hide in the wheel well).
WHARVED 