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People often say I talk a lot, but I hardly think that is true,
Like the whispers about the bluebird, of which he never knew.

Talking helps a lot with my job, which is in public relations,
As modern artists' imaginations, help to create new sensations!

At last I was on vacation though, relishing in blooming pathways,
As I followed the sun, not looking back, on the endless highways.

The scenic route is always best, when you have plenty of time;
And when the weather is balmy, the purple martins sing sublime.

I had the car windows down, savoring the lazy August breeze;
And I listened to the soft melody, of green whispering trees!

The highway wound through hills, and it meandered up and down,
As the sun forever rises and sets, as earth goes vividly round.

Birdsong followed after me, through emerald hills and hollows,
As trees were filled with the sound, of redbirds and of swallows.

No work in the day ahead of me, I was calm relaxed and smiling,
Like the Mona Lisa masterpiece, with her serenity so beguiling!

The radiant season beamed, as I drove from town to sleepy town,
As blithesome as true love, dressed in a flowing wedding gown.

At last I stopped for lunch, in a town which had a strange name.
Idioma is what it was called, which might not assure its fame.

Lunch was so satisfyingly good, that I ordered a rich dessert.
Instead I was served a single bullet, lying upon a dish inert!

I gave the waitress an exasperated look, to which she smiled,
But I decided to let it go, no longer with a dessert beguiled.

I had so many times partaken of, the seafood known as mullet,
But never in my zaniest mood, had I imagined biting the bullet!

After paying for my lunch, I sauntered into a fragrant summer,
Wondering if this strange town, marched to a different drummer.

Still enjoying the fine day, but more than a little curious,
I felt that walking about for a bit, would be quite luxurious!

Strolling through residential Idioma, I saw revelers at a party,
But they were doing something strange, so exuberantly and hearty!

As I drew closer to the house, I was able to get a better view,
Of people smashing ice out front, asking each other, "What's new?"

I promptly stopped and stared, as if turned to stone by Medusa,
Like the cessation of the honeybees, when the skies turn fuchsia.

What could I do but to keep going? I could not change the truth,
As humans can only keep on growing, while still in early youth.

Further on I saw an old man, swinging from an upper tree limb.
Waving cheerfully, he said he was hanging in there, and chillin'.

I was growing used to strange sights, that I did not understand,
Like butterflies appearing in golden sun, at someone's command.

Passing by a bake sale, I stopped to buy a strawberry cupcake,
But the lady gave me a dozen, while asking for a dime-no mistake!

So I just queried point blank, if this town had some idiom craze,
So much so that they needed to enact them, for all of their days? 

Taken aback, she asked what an idiom was, and she seemed perplexed,
As if living here in idiom land, put all its people out of context!

So, I took the dozen cupcakes, and in warm breezes kept on walking,
Down the pathways of strangeness, as the afternoon came stalking.

Soon I saw men at a construction site, who hastily ceased working;
Then they said, "It's a day!" But to me, they seemed to be shirking.

I had learnt thus far to say nothing, to the bizarre and unusual,
As beautiful gardens say nothing, when the lashing rains are cruel!

Rounding a corner I saw a field, where people chased wild geese,
As golden sun chases inky night, in a race that will never cease.

It's been many years since that day, when my reality was so skewed,
And I've never been in a mood, to converse on the things I viewed!

I have just learned to accept, that some things can't be explained,
Like a sweltering desert dry for ages, where suddenly it has rained!
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