The Bs About Eating Pancakes On Mardi Gras
Mardi Gras parades are rolling the streets again
I watched 'Isis' from inside my windowpane
A king and a queen were pretending to reign
but from the colorful revelry I chose to abstain
I grew up yelling, "Throw me something mister!"
Going to many parades with friends and my sister.
Walked miles on St. Charles Ave. and got a blister
and smiled when a float rider said, "I kissed her!"
I've ridden in several carnival krewes around the city
The floats, the long beads and costumes are pretty
I sang Prof. Longhair's "Go to the Mardi Gras" ditty
but I don't miss taking part. Not one itty bitty.
I began this poem thinking I'd correct a mistake
the BS poet wrote about a breakfast of pancakes.
No one eats that on Mardi Gras. For heaven's sake!
I told him, "Everyone gets Popeye's when they wake"
He read my comment and corrected the wrong date.
I told him he was off by a week, and he didn't hesitate
to delete my words, so I returned, not out of hate
but to ask him why he did that... my curiosity to sate
Another deletion without an explanation. That's BS!
So, I relied on myself to come up with a good guess.
I'd ruffled his ego, making it hard for him to confess
that he knew nothing about Fat Tuesday. He's a mess.
Copyright © Lin Lane | Year Posted 2023
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