SONG AND DANCE
"A man is his mistletoe, a woman her pastels.
"So thought Derek as he picked a gladiolus.
"This shall make the nosegay, thought he as well.
"Not yet, though. He browsed further by the foliage."
That's how to play the scuttled structural functions.
Spit drips from trumpets and the seal on the nog is split.
"I won't know what I've done till, twenty years hence,
"from a tabletop record I hear such a dunce."
Those chipped rhythms!
In a bizarre flash of brinksmanship, someone may announce
that the first drinks weren't in fact on the house.
See the elements of superstition strewn about like beef lungs,
and a couple ponies dragging some wilted elf's chariot
between the cotton buildings and rubber fact'ries.