Last words from Atlantis: Glub, Glub
Well, yes, I have just discovered that there exists such a thing
for the number of the Registrar to locate my tardy
paperwork, there it was. I could just punch in a number
and talk to a person who sat and archived state tumors.
The possibilities! Sooooooo, that led me to ponder
why my home state has a tumor registry.
I mean, isn’t it bad enough that the Cajun Riviera,
the shrimp, crab, and oyster haven for the country,
not to mention the cloaca of the entire
and beyond, as far as
a football field’s worth every 45 minutes!*
So now we have a tumor registry, too?
Am I the only one to find all this extremely alarming?
Last week the nice giraffe and one of the threadbare
ostriches at the sad local zoo plunged mutely
into a great sinkhole that filled with water,
and they drowned.
Now, that is tragic,
and do not think for one minute
that I feel otherwise about it,
but the distraught zoo director,
after another sinkhole appeared,
requested that the road crew drive their equipment
round and round the enclosure
to see if any new holes would swallow them up.
he felt it would be some kind of poetic justice.
Another sinkhole took
and that runs just south of the Courthouse.
It took a whole year to repair it. Some wag
from the Mayor’s office has re-dubbed it
And the same thing could happen to
Anyway, the Saints always stink after the first half.
Hey, why should I worry?
I always wanted a house on the water,
and the next hurricane could make my dream come true.
Anyway, I still, and always will, just love to swim!
Much Love to You-All,
Alive, and well on Tralfamadore,
Special Thanks to Janis Joplin and Billy Pilgrim XXOOXX!
And, MLL, thank you for reminding me that the tea at the Palaz
is still very fine!
* Bayou Farewell, by Mike Tidwell (the solution)