“The past is concrete,
the future abstract,
but the present is most precious,
for it so quickly becomes the past.”–SLR
The script was written, & the reality-TV stars were cast.
The Bachelor had to pick one for happily ever after,
tho’ the love story had been written once upon a time.
She was a spelling bee,
always drawn to an English rose or
recreating a page out of History,
but when it came to a Math problem involving Science,
she felt like Barbie trying to get her G.E.D.
The tenants of the Raintree Apartments were complex—
the military wives who cooked the meth,
the potheads who held Ph.D.’s,
the poor Republicans & the rich Democrats,
but all that mattered when a room blew up or there was a bust,
was that they paid their rent on time.
His Randy-ian Ways
She came home to find her husband in bed
with his literary lover, Ayn Rand,
well-hung above their bed,
for Ayn’s virtue was selfishness,
& he, the most virtuous of all.
When she took the self out of selfie,
she was left with half a rule: i before e.
Colon Howell lived in the land of Alfabet City,
where all the punctuation was quite witty,
though he was tired of floating over vowels
because of the nosebleeds that made him dizzy.
A fast-paced city it was,
all the marks running on and on,
While strolling through the park one day,
in the merry month of June,
he was taken by surprise,
by a bunch of loons—
We’s who’d read Ayn Rand and
wanted to become I’s;
they took his blue eye,
but he got away before
they were able to get his brown,
and he was bounced out of town.
When he returned undercover,
dressed as a semicolon,
he leaked his story on YouTube and HuffPost,
with an eyepatch over the part that was swollen,
full of ripostes.
Through his ordeal,
he found a new purpose,
for run-on sentences stopped,
and he was hailed a hero.