Matthew Harris Poet Ode

What Intended To Be Praise of a Cold Shower

What Intended To Be Praise Of A Cold Shower...
(became something else (tau welled), 
     and tolled at this hour).

Though hermetically sealed within
     this temperature
     controlled quite bare
able (sixty degrees Fahrenheit,
     the lowest possible central air
conditioned setting) insulated
     one bedroom unit at clear
lee maintained Highland

     Manor Apartments (where
vacant units frequently available
     at this low cost facility, (deer
and the antelope play amidst
     a wooded strip) fair,
lee enshroud above this
     tranquil, serene, and hare
wren there, a quotidian

     refulgent quite pastoral lair
ideal nooks and crannies
     to read, which
     non paid for plug 'ere)
won can seclude themselves
     from the madding crowd gear
ring up to see return
     of the native sob

     bummer, day dreamer, flounderer
     Matthew Scott Harris,
     whose shut eye evoked,
     a place he did revere
within the outer limits of the twilight
     named Willoughby, while in
     deep sleep he did mare
to his quasi 
     
     (caught in moat oh) mistress
     sweet heart Lady Chatterley
(in an storybook parable
setting) analogous
     to Sleepy Hollow where
a lookalike of
     Rip Van Winkle
     only added insult to injury,

when the "FAKE" headless
donned horseman got trumped
     by a transexual, *****,
nudist, k9, homosexual,
     eunuch corn, where

a cold shower shook
     and didst scare
away every last
     vestige I swear
so realistic disappointment arose,
     when vision didst appear.

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