the landlord announced a festival.

the butterflies happily flapped their wings:

slippery sleepy beauty signals the night’s success.

“beat the beets to liquid, tonight our mouth shall be filled.

get me my best jacket, I do not want to be late.”

the landlord shivered with tremors

of anxiety. tonight’s feast must be really great,

i definitely heard him mention the setting

as one beside the bayou. oh, the guest must be ready

to bend their elbows!

“order 50 incandescent bulbs, history must

know that my party was day in night. spice

the venue with Solomon’s cinnamon delivered in

seven buckets. for the fries, go hunt for elks, boy,

while the rest fix the carport. we’ve quite an unpredictable weather.”

 

then

all of a sudden he collapsed.

how sweet it was to imagine: here he was,

lonely in his stead- a peasant farmer.

“and don’t forget the blue song” he 

whispered in tears.