Don’t put up that toilet seat
Or dream of climbing in Tibet
Resist the man lecturing a chair
Monkey magic has us hunting bear
Melting ice in time reveals what past hid where.
So who to set our table now?
Expecting handouts from Macau
Like birthdays made of second thoughts
Headlines leaked by squawking parrots
Painted ink hot presses telling ancient tarots.
Time lost its desire to pick up the broom
Soft dust a blanket hugging tight my tomb
Nervous whispers, longing words of the spelling bee
Reserving space to lay in perfect secrecy
Trying mystery masks to solve this soliloquy.
Priests won’t hear confessions anymore
Busy making red sauce keeping score
Recipes of secrets to save some clericals
Life is plural until the despot smiles
Shaming grace we make her crawl the final bloody miles.
Called by Bloom whose answer makes us blush
Likely few remember the heat of their first wish
How they tumbled off that Sunday bench
Interrupting Father’s homily, enter here my wench
Lust chose us instead to wander in the would.