The Trip Goes In (and Out)
Perchance I will flutter and fall
The world is your oyster but you
were allergic to seafood
The pearl is motionless and listless
It was artificial pearl
When the open sky meets your seal
Shall you broken in or shall you fold?
Every city leads to you
Every city you turn old
May your crocodile tear turn to feather
And all your feathers reads Délie
Stop defiling me, be free, be reed
Whisper sacs my bag (my bad)
When windmill sacks your lighthouse
And your lighthouse stains your nightcoat
Remember this verse, lest you dismember me
By Cecil Low, commenting on the bejewelled situation
March 2024
HL: “Fix your hair or fix your game.”
