The wicked candle of cindered vacations Invites in the aroma of specials shopping For school stationery, short-sleeve shirts And books with which to bury boyhood.
Once scattered now reassembled, All were dressed like occupants of a warm, neat nest, Not a plume lent to a rebellious rise. Barbered and beautiful in balm, All gleamed gorgeously, save for your humble, sprouting speaker.
Naturally averse to clipping claws And vehemently opposed to malting manes, I slipped through the scorching Serengeti to school, Rugged and sharp in every stride, Intent only on ******* on the porch of prissy pigeons.
Horrified, they weighed up my Transylvanian talons, Convinced such manifestations hail from heretic or heathen heritage. Looking at my lumped locks with gentrified gall, They whispered low squawks, suspecting lice.
Two metallic hand-held instruments housed in pouches and boxes Brought my feline rebellion to its guillotined end.