Leaving Buttock-Shaped Dents

(Effects of a Cloudy Day on the Brain)

“I wonder whom I might consult,” he said,
in an affectless manner, “to rev up my head.”
“What would you like to accomplish?” she asked –
while she watched him continue to loll and to bask

in the nude in the sun at a beach resort.
“Clearly not you!” he had meant to retort
before Destiny thought to exhort, intervene:
and he suddenly – flit! – disappeared from the scene

borne away by a quantum mechanical blip
into which he proceeded to slide, then to slip
leaving buttock-shaped dents in a vacancy
on the warm shore: as if some strange latency

had decided just then to employ its volition
and bring on an outcome of rarest fruition –
to drop him all naked upon a white globe
of nothing particular: as if the lobe

of an ear on a giant mad scientist
had invited him – so to encourage a tryst
between naked small speck and some dangling part
of the giant mad scientist who’d just lost heart

that he’d ever discover – alas! – how to reach
a delectable woman upon a warm beach –
when as if in a dream the small speck understood
that the place he’d just come from quite easily would

bring the saddened mad scientist quite the result
that the speck knew would make the poor fellow exult –
and on cues that it’s true seem impossible now
the quantum mechanical blip did its “wow!”

and deposited both on the beach in a rush –
and alit on the lady and whomped her to mush.
The moral is obvious – certainly:
but for now I’m afraid it escapes even me.




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