Ten fifths of a moonbeam

This one is about ten fifths of a moonbeam hiding in a pocket...

Instrumental to the making and braving the long winds home a buck 20 was singing hallelujah without a receipt when a train full of Long-fellows passed so close a whirling happened and falling over tails down began an autobiography to say how close to death the day had almost been.

Just around the corner to this and not overly far, many swooning lovers came to bury their dead in the up-stance of all the holy repeatable making haloes in the floor for the idols to fall through while a leg-over was dancing the hop on the tiles and making light work of it if a little noisily.

“I don’t know what you’re growing in there but you better stop it soon ‘cos it’s keeping me awake,” said a thousand pounds of gelignite on vacation in the next room.

“Shut up all of you,” said an excuse for a smile in another room boiling a hangover for breakfast and banging on the wall to make a difference that made no difference at all.

“I see we have a monkey in the works,” said the monkey eating a clove of garlic in the tree.

“The receipt of the moment for this expedition is not the cure we are looking for and so I say this: what we are looking for is not to be found where we are looking so we must look somewhere else for it to be found,” said the Englishman whirling around in the turbine.

“I told you not to mix it up with this lot,” said the wobbly bifurcation making no headway whatsoever in the blessings that were falling everywhere.

“She came latest where I could not learn enough about love in time to save her,” moaned ten fifths of a moonbeam searching around the garden.

“Is this our lot then?” said the visual facilities coordinator who was a real water-babe and still had nineteen days deposit left.

“Down the fading stairs, up the stormy river and round the famous bend until it makes you shiver,” sang the man in the barrel counting flowers in passing.

“Look into my eyes to find the answer,” said the hypnotist home from the snake charming fair.

“Oh no,” said the man in the barrel looking around desperately for a way of escape, but too late, the hypnotist had him. And so down through the revolving doors he fell, down, down past the various layers into the well where all his misdeeds locked behind bars called to him for release as he fell; and forever falling he’s still there now, lost behind the hypnotist’s whirling eyes.

Many lovers come this way to find themselves lost alone and forsaken, and though many calls come of: “run for your life,” still, this way they must journey to find the way through and out to the other side.

“I cannot go on,” said the burnt card of defeat.

“Meow,” said the meow cat painting a picture on the wall that had the depth of a dog’s bone chasing its tail and was right up there with Stravinsky’s piano recital in D minor.

“Come home now,” said the calling that could not be explained in any other way.

The musings in all the heavenly delight packed a suitcase and caught the over-night train to Bangkok and left all this behind in the park where the sun melted it down for the ants to carry down into their holes and make mulch of it for the walls of their empire, and this is why when you go past an ant’s nest you can hear faintly the calls of old ghosts beseeching for a way out of the dark where they are captured forever.

“Shiver me timbers, is that what all the wailing is,” said the monkey looking around for more garlic.

“Just so,” said the Englishman stepping out of his whirling with ten fifths of a moonbeam hiding in his pocket.

“Take me home,” echoed the moonbeam, “this is not the cure we are looking for.”

The crazy dream drove Blue-Jane clean out of her mind, and sitting up in bed she screamed once and then fell back down into sleep where the winds of her fright passed away to be replaced with a smile that held her and didn’t let go until the morning came to bless her once more.

“Hello again,” said her lover beside her, waking from the crash-barrel of his dreaming to yawn in the new day.

“Get me out of this barrel,” said the man in the barrel in the corner where he’d come to rest.

Nobody else said a thing as they wondered how to get off the train that was going nowhere.

Image from Pixabay

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