Skating away from fifty Z. suddenly has the urge to contribute.
With a little cursory research he develops a plan.
With a little coaxing and catering, he convinces a delicious Sundae to leave her temp job and drop her Dead Head boyfriend.
Hymn to hymen. The operation cost Z. plenty.
In lieu of a forest Z. opts for his small garden with white stucco walls.
In lieu of forest birds he courts with black thistle the urban ilk.
Imagining pilgrim caterpillars unfolding, he airlifts them, on curled finger, in cupped hand, through the garden gate and onto an empty trellis.
Finally, after how many days of waiting, the snare of a fair maiden springs.
Though Z. wishes the pretty pony no harm, he saws off the golden horn, grinds it to powder, mixes it with Gatorade and ice.
Thinking Moses-in-the-desert, thinking Asklepios, he sets up on 4th and Park, raising high his cardboard sign: ICECOLD DRINKS, GRATIS
About the author:
Currently I reside in Long Beach, CA, and teach mathematics in Los Angeles. My poetry credits include Lily, Ghoti Magazine, Mimesis, and the Cafe Review.
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