I have half-conscious dreams. They are miswritten plays.
My friends are miscast in the parts.
One who recently suffered a breakup
Reads the vengeful, deposed monarch,
Comments on the great hall's decorative art,
Tears a faceless classmate half-apart,
and passes the artichoke hearts.
It isn't Shakespeare, or a good start,
But can be mildly entertaining
On the rare occasions I remember to remember
Parts of plots, if not the names of the dismembered.
No comments:
Post a Comment