good evening —
might i inquire of you the whys and whererfores of your existence?
i am curious as to your rhymes and reasons and wish for
what had been your fruitbasket originally
was turned inside out by fate’s pick
of adjectives and nouns.
the time will come for pomp and circumstance
but first process down the aisle of your mind
grave cabbages and kings wearing shoes of ships and sealing wax.
nonsense will tonight be required of your soul.
each other’s imaginations will we delve
and put on trial
like diamonds in the dock.
an amiable absurdity for an aftercourse shall we dissect and devour.
she who gives no explanations