Heavenly Gelato
The bunny weighs a ton
And the bunny sings Cossack songs
In a deep baritone that rings
Like the bells in St. Peter's Basilica.
Between the post office and the church
Is three blocks exactly, no more nor
Less than the length of St. Peter's Basilica.
You can starch your collar; you can
Phone the papers. You won't
Hear any different. The television
Station in heaven plays the test
Pattern all day long, a mirage
Of colors reminding you of
Sherbet, of the 1000 crayola box.
In a deep baritone that rings
Out of joyous harmony
The rabbit removes the magician's hat,
And prances off to buy the paper.
The top story of the day reveals that God
Is getting a new cravat.
Much speculation attends its stripes.
It's good to be in such a majestic place
Where sobriety is untold by
Madness, and where soccer games
Are nearly constant. Cossack
Dancing classes are scheduled
For later on, and if you prefer
To stay at home, by the window,
You can watch everyone who ever
Was plop down their nickels
For ice cream from a whistling truck,
and so go waltzing by.
posted by Reen |link| 0 comments
