God's greenest, avocados, sliced in a bright red ceramic bowl
Mix them with eggs and they dance with exuberant cowboy soul!
Ever observe them twirling in that griddle?
It indeed takes a Poet to see them do the "allemand left"right in the middle,
to the sounds of a fiddle!
The eggs twirl the fullest in bright, pretty, paisley cowgirl skirts.
Such a simple task, it fills me with Western imagination and American mirth.
May 16, 2020
7pm PST
Poem 1,273
Mr. Juncker's Continental System
Cohorts of Luxembourg, arise!
Keep the Russians from the Rhiine.
Hosts of Luxembourg, en garde,
Confine the British to the brine.
"We'll do without America,"
says Merkel with aplomb.
Warily one has to ask,
"Whose finger's on the Bomb?"
Français ou Allemand?
Que parlons-nous, messieurs?
Until this issue's settled
It's Anglais, faut de mieux.
A toast, my brave companions,
on the path we march along.
Not bourbon and not whiskey
but cognac Napoleon!
With lightened heart and care-loosed feet
setting out hand-in-hand
to Celtic tune and callers bleat
of "hay," "gypsy," "allemand."
All that satin, cotton and silk
a'twirl in twos and fours,
topped by smiles white as milk
on dancers by the score.
Away sad thoughts, can you not see?
The dance is on, it's time for glee!
Consider the dance in contrast to
and not as to oppose,
this instant poised, then threading through
a line, and then who knows?
Tumbl' out your hair, O lady dear.
What need have you for care?
This dizziness will soon make clear,
so lose yourself in ayre.
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