Sunday, June 17, 2018

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

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

No comments: