I wonder if we make the stars sigh

Your eyes are as blue
As an 80-year-old shoe
That ran the Santiago trail
Oh, about a week ago.
It took that long for
Deep Ellum to dump
Her red light lines
And trade for Serious Pizza
And Emporium Pies.
All the while Dallas spits up
Its sky-high towers
And Indian Blanket flowers
And the sun keeps rollin’ by…

And the sun keeps rollin’ by.
I wonder if we make the stars sigh…

When I do automatic writing
I automatically write about

 How this table leaps
As though shaken by an earthquake
Whenever you enter the room.
You toss your lime-green hair
And throw me a lemon to spare
And we eat dinner by the dunes.
And the moon smiles and rolls on by…

The moon smiles and rolls on by.
I wonder if we make the stars sigh…

To think the moon is made of cheese
Would put Wisconsin ill at ease
And send Mad Hatter
To the Looney bin
Where he’d sing Looney Tunes
And chase down coffee
Like Tom chases Jerry
And like how my mom chases rhubarb and nail-chewing rats
And never tarries, her
Imitation of the Rootabaga Tales.
Only Illinoisans could catch this joke…

Only they would laugh and cry.
I wonder if we make the stars sigh…

If I had to choose my favorite pet
It’d be my buff weiner dog and Queen
Elizabeth’s 100 corgis
Hunting for birds they
are too short to catch,
Yet leap for nevertheless…

Oh how cute they are when they try.
I wonder if we make the stars sigh…

To think of schooners
And the boats that sailed swiftly
From Dunkirk
To end the war sooner
Than Churchill could smoke a cigar
And then over radio without a glitch
Call Hitler “Son of a @#&%$!”
As politically incorrect as it gets
Yet for the insulter lie no regrets…

Oh how we spread ourselves thin like butter on rye.
I wonder if we make the stars sigh…

Like Nanny McPhee
Escaping up a tree
From the baby-slinging children,
And my friend running from ants
Like Indianna Jones
To escape the stab of her EPIPEN.
From his bed, Shakespeare
Sits up in shock

And wishes that like Socrates he’d
Drunk hemlock
To cure his medieval mind
As we watch this postmodern world
Before us,
Unwind…

If you listen you can hear Hercules cry.
I wonder if we make the stars sigh…

 

KAITLYN BROWN

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