The Story of the Day

The Story of the Day                            May 3, 2011

Walking an Earth whose strength

Is based upon feeble rodents running

On a perpetuating fuel of happiness and despair,

Norm walks from lush, watercolor green grass

Inseminated by the rainy sperm from the sky

To a land scaled in the kind

Of dry cracks one can and most likely

Would associate with the rigor mortis of nature.

Sex sells like hotcakes with sausage at Mickey D's,

And the morning paper shows London Hyatt

With her latest conquest,

An old flame of Leslie Highman's

By the name of Peter S. Long.

It is the story of the day,

And cannot be discounted as an understatement.

Reading Scripture tells me nothing

Other than not to eat the soup du jour.

I see spires everywhere I look,

Spires as far as my weak eye can see -

Spires rising high at Mass,

Reaching for the sky,

Creating some dark flesh-like desires

One cannot readily discount as being a "no."

Then the guy down the pew from me vapor-locks

And is thus deceased...he saw his spire erupt.

And the penguins rush the floor,

Chanting Christ knows what,

And in utter amusement, I laugh,

Not just because it was within a moment of sheer mirth,

But because I always get the final say as the advocate,

And you may quote me forever more.