The Auction

[rasputin]

As I gaze from my window,
the long tail of assumption
slumps through the garden.
It flattens the shrubs.
'You may water at the discretion
of the check-in clerk.
If she's not really fussed,
she'll take me.'
I disagree.

To choose from the room's supply,
to lie through my teeth,
to pluck you from your corner,
and spread you on the street.

A dollar bill, as it were,
open to bids;
the fruition of contest.
'The optimal strategy
is at the discretion of the check-in clerk'.
She falters.

So I dance with the risk, the punctured
cysts align with your tail.
Would you bid higher than a dollar?
Indeed, you disagree.
But we've come far to hear your tale,
at the discretion of the check-in clerk.

[kitsch]

this is more like it.

awesome