Paris after midnight in Singapore

This one is a poem, looks like a poem, and feels like a poem...

Image by Gaby Stein from Pixabay

A sense of unreality was chasing Credulity
Around the bottom of a small bucket of dreams
And getting nowhere fast as usual
Which was all well and good if
You don’t want to get anywhere...
Seven shellfish removed from this,
Extraordinarily so,
And on the top of a steep hill,
A small earthquake was getting ready
To boil an egg
But had bitten off more than could be chewed
And so fell over backwards
And rolled down the hill to land in the bucket.
All activity stopped with a question
To see what the disturbance was.
“Hashimoto is the name,”
Said Hashimoto the small earthquake
Handing out cards that said: ‘I’m only at home when I am.’
“What do you do?”
Asked a sense of unreality
Secretly eyeing Credulity who was almost within reach...
“I can take a bone of contention
And turn it into anything you want,” said Hashimoto
The small earthquake shaking in the limelight...
“Can you get me out of here?”
Asked Credulity hitching up her pants and getting ready
To run again as unreality edged closer to her.
“Of course I can,”
Said Hashimoto pulling a calculator from his pocket
And who was also an engineering student.
“Watch this,” he said
And set the calculator on the bottom of the bucket
Where it began to hum and glow.
The drenched peacock walking past the bucket
Saw the glow emanating from within
And so went to investigate out of curiosity
And looking in was amazed
By the definition of insanity
That was going through the transmutation terms
Of its own death throes
And turning into a ladder that was reaching to the sky,
Or something like that...
The peacock sat down to watch the show unfolding
And ran a comb through its teeth
Hoping to make beautiful music from it
And not understanding why it never happened.
“I am not going to tell you again it won’t happen like that,”
Said the number five tooting for change...
“Yes sir, round and round we go,”
Said number eight going in circles upon itself.
One thousand pizzas were delivered
And signed for by a hidden slave...
All the pizzas had melted cheese
That wanted to drip down the face
Of anyone who would eat them,
Not that it mattered much to the muchness
That was going through the change just then
And had no room for self expression
Except the bad glow of a dim light bulb
That was drinking beer all alone by itself
With no one around much and repeating to itself:
“No bones, no bones,” over and over again.
A snigger came from the audience
Where the ice sparklers were hidden
To meet again someday where someone would say:
“I told you so,”
And then to lose all enthusiasm
And go back to sleep
In the ever wanton dreaming
That is so seductive when you’re on the edge
And can’t find your way home...
Ever so lucky who was ever so
And used to live in a loft
With an artist who was always out of time
Became so much more than the ordinary dream
And so took the dog for a walk
That barked the whole time
At everything
And so when she got back
She took a soda and gin
And had a fifteen minute wink in front of the TV
To put her nerves back in order and thought:
‘The meal tonight will not be on the menu,’
And then she fell asleep and forgot about everything.
The wicked peeping Tom outside her window
Picked up his megaphone and shouted:
“Ants, ants, everywhere, paradise is invaded by ants,”
And then he ran off scratching himself all over.
Ever so lucky smiled in her sleep
And the dog joined her, her perfect guardian.
When the peeping Tom reported in to Capitol Hill
He was given the electric chair and was told:
“It’s all in your imagination,”
To which he replied:
“Ants,”
And then he expired
Gritting his mouth full of very large teeth
That turned blue and were buried in Boot Hill
Where they grew up from in the first place...
The peeping Tom was cremated to hide the evidence.
Over in the bucket from all this,
Things were going according to plan
And needed no explanation more than:
“Tie her down if you catch her or she’ll run away.”
Credulity looked down
From the top of the ladder to the sky
And sent a kiss to the two below
And then pulled the ladder out of the bucket and ran away.
“Well I never,”
Said Hashimoto
And began building another ladder with his calculator
That was trying to warn him the batteries were running low.
A sense of unreality was chasing its own tail
And hoping it was easier to catch than Credulity.

Image from Pixabay