“Come in, Ma! Feast your Eyes on This!”

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=41b9z1Xo8nY

(video with a surprise at the end. well, a little surprise.) 

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A much-loved longtime friend quite firmly 

requisitioned me, that moment, to prevail 

upon the odd capacities (or incapacities 

should they avail) of my imagination's eye

to give a go to a scenario in a hasty but 

appropriately lavish drawing (which he knew 

I couldn't help but do) a nouveau treatment 

.

for his window. Gold, stained glass and satin 

if I wanted. Affronted, I harrumphed that 

that was not the sort of ring I throw my hat in, 

thank you very much: as he well knew, I never 

drew on cue. No way! Which stance I vowed to

keep until an image growing in my mind began 

to make me pay a good deal more than I’d have 

.

had to pay had I stopped neighing Nay! and

simply did it. So, my friend, though it offend 

your sense of comme il faut, here’s the panoply 

of how I see the future of your window: which, 

however, will not sing unless you follow slavishly 

the single offering from you upon which it 

insists: that its surrounding walls be painted 

.

to reflect the textured richness of the hues 

of feces dropped by certain species of a yak 

found in southeast Iraq beyond the western 

bounds of Basrah – then he’d have his 

Casbah, his “Come in, ma! Feast your eyes 

on this!” Would she blow a kiss or hiss?

No matter, he'll have found his bliss.

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