-the pragmatic guest at all of the weddings since records of hurricanes were kept

Ars investigation what works now
tons of nonsense pushed down
a throat pipe so why try
to make it up the way they do,
taking that old Sra. with a stuffed chicken
pretending she was on a bus
down in the Andes.  She is as real
as her chicken just in case
the evaluation turns up signaling the empty.

Add a few words in Spanish
mention some type of date rape
plead for change, borrow a few blankets
to set up the refugee center
why don't you?  Some old woman
in NYC shall don her coat of arms
acerbically so, pinching her own nose
while she scribbles a few throwbacks.
Sure, it's a democracy, speed of light
is the constable, subpoena in hand.

This isn't happening, it's already
happened just in the future
so write it down in case
the world forgets all that ESP:
News at Ten: the next of kin
have not been notified
but I'm sure they are waiting.
Pity sells like hotcakes
in the ash strewn universes
of California, gofundme
for burial expenses, who said such things!

I thought the ashes already did that.

We as in we, the two of us
walk in different directions
going the same way over again
back to bed and up again,
as long as neither of us mentions
the epiphany more than once
we get along, tossing soap
and paper towels down the corridor.
Dorothy Parker get thee behind me!

Here she is again, running the bookshop
on misspellings and typographical errors,
the trend is towards memory, aka nostalgia
so much hard work to create accidental meaning
but if you delete enough, the mystery
will spoon full of sugar-it-down.
Was that really a stuffed chicken?
Did you mean to make fun of the pilgrims
or the Injuns?  Might be beautiful afterall
if the thumbnail shows the real blonde hair.
They can solve anything now with DNA.

All I could do at the reception
without you was walk to and fro,
appetizers to smoking area past the bar
where a boy with a wreath around his head
 points his gold lamé shoes, smirks a gotchagain!
Might as well be a stuffed chicken
if it weren't for the raw aggression.
My nafs pretty much said no thanks
to the newcomer regardless of the parka
and troubling set design, some folks
are stars, some are extras,
some just stuffed chickens.

And this is the old Southern Baptist church,
my mother said the dress flattered,
I knew then that somehow
as the keeper of the guest book,
I was afterthought, not good enough
to be the maid of honor but I really was.
It is not over by a long shot
until each guest there understands
the first step on that moon
wasn't theirs anymore than it was
Freemasonry across the street
who stood there last,
idolatry pre-exists the world,
Tolstoy a distant cousin of Tiny Tim..