A Hearty Valent Sign
Ah what fair moan
laden fantasy lassitude looms
large if this
chaste ole buoy got cornered
into an alleyway
by a bevy of beefy
buxom babes dead set
on hounding this
doggone codger anyway
shape or form eying
sole asylum madly
sprinting thru a narrow
cookie cutter archway
overlooking a multilane beltway
risky business risking
life and limb leaping
the immense height to
make a breakaway
inevitably configuring myself
into unrecognizable
Rorschach Test, when
ganged up by goo goo dolls
suddenly become permanently faraway
unless of course some fluke,
disguised a big yellow bird
rescues yours truly talons linkedin
to flesh pot, a gateway
timed perfectly with
what I surmised
as doomed getaway,
though while dangling aloft
(imagining myself sanity clause)
minus the reindeer sleigh trademark
accouterment and nary a giveaway,
but no idea when...
aerial salvation halfway
to destination thinking,
perchance mebbe adventure
will comprise entering
a wormhole hatchway,
an out of this world experience,
and without doubt
the most remote hideaway,
a thought raced thru my mind
this captive within
hinterlands of space/time
could be heading
along the highway
to hell, no matter where pathway
takes this beastie boy
even if fate somehow
finds me in Rockaway
or possibly alternate
universe of said placename
nothing infuses Earthling
with greater excitement
than feeling like a
truant proud runaway
entranced by the infinite skyway
analogous to ascending stairway
to heaven, only for
this celestial stowaway
that does land him
smack dab straightaway
into a parallel dimension wafting
my buttonose with decor of dames
intent to commence
cupid ditty underway
coon scent of woman actually
ache'n since commencement
of this "FAKE" quasi poem.
Copyright © Matthew Harris | Year Posted 2019
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