mildred's first baby blog

 hello: this is the blog for mildred.  dude, you can all join mildred.

Time and Temperature

And when the brims have been coated
and vacation themes overcooked,
forever budding in and around you,
eleven times your expected span
in a shivering tease, we can padlock
our genitals and call her quits.
At last the pathetic will inherit the earth
like we knew they would, the deeper
(because hollow) souls.  Okay,
though, you first need candy skulls.
I think that Zebo the Clown said
lifetimes were very long.  Before online,
thatched homes jingled and slept in forest fog,
and ice cream was all hand-cranked. 
Once the dragon came to town we slapped a saddle
on him and rode toward the soulless black cave.
I've yet to see a dinner finer than the next, look:
you slept with your bong and woke up on fire
after tasting Key lime yogurt and Kool-Aid. 
To burn and rise is a humble aspiration.
This is how we wanted it, and when the rent is due,
we'll rip up the kitchen tiles and move down the street.

Then was a good time without ever being.
New life hangs in the balance.
Forget about roads.  Fork tongues and foods.
We'll spit fire without anyone's permission.

After John Ashbery's “Tango and Schottische”