She rails at unseen whisperers,
un-wrappers of gooey carmels.
Her hat is high and so am I,
drunk on her liederkranz chanel.
I imagine a well-placed apple
replacing her feathered chapeau.
An unpracticed William Tell zings
her headless with his bow.
Clever subtitles explain the plot.
The score sets an ominous tone.
Things are fine till next to me sits
a girl wearing limburger cologne.
©Kathryn McLoughlin Collins
July 4, 2012