What place this is I think I know.
I’ll enter by the back door, though.
The doorman will not hinder here;
Around the rear he does not go.
My cabbie looks at me all queer,
As I stroll in the hall so drear.
He thinks there must be some mistake,
To waste a rainy evening here.
He gives his fist a fretful shake;
Perhaps the tip was not so jake.
I’ll answer not his charge of, “Cheap!”
So let him think I’m just a flake.
The gallery is ill-lit, creep-
y; stairs to second floor quite steep.
But after getting one good peep
At this trash, will I ever sleep?
I’ll enter by the back door, though.
The doorman will not hinder here;
Around the rear he does not go.
My cabbie looks at me all queer,
As I stroll in the hall so drear.
He thinks there must be some mistake,
To waste a rainy evening here.
He gives his fist a fretful shake;
Perhaps the tip was not so jake.
I’ll answer not his charge of, “Cheap!”
So let him think I’m just a flake.
The gallery is ill-lit, creep-
y; stairs to second floor quite steep.
But after getting one good peep
At this trash, will I ever sleep?
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 |
 |
 |
Dai Alanye
Stopping by Modern Art Gallery on a Rainy Evening
(With apologies to a certain defunct rhymester)
(With apologies to a certain defunct rhymester)
TmfM Excerpt
She grabbed his sleeve. “Wait!” He shook loose again.
“No, wait a minute, Jack. I’ve got… I want to go with you.”
He wasn’t ready for it. “Huh?!”
“Yeah, I want to go with you—whatever it is.”
This time his laugh was unforced. He could just picture her
and her lovely derriere, her blond ponytail tucked up
under a beret or campaign hat, snooping and pooping in
some Godforsaken bush country, her freckles hidden by
camo paint, her shapely legs flexing in green utilities,
bosom thrusting at her bush shirt…
Actually, this was causing him some discomforting
sensations—and she was still talking! He longed to plug
his ears and run.
He interrupted her. “You have any nursing skills? Can you
set up camp and cook game? Or are you looking to be a
comfort lady?”
“What’s that—something dirty?”
“Uplift the troops’ morale.”
“Troops! So it is guerrilla stuff.”
“Pfft! You’ve got a one-track, mind, Sheila.”
During the argument everyone had straggled past and left
the parking lot, leaving their vehicles now alone. Dust
sifted down upon them unnoticed.
“I’m coming with you, Jack! I deserve a little adventure in
my life, too. If you won’t help I’ll worm it out of Brian. I’ll… ”
“If Brian ever gets within half a klick of you I’ll have his
scalp. If he ever says G’day I’ll… Well, never mind. Let’s
go—I’ll lock the gate.”
§ § §
Her last words were, shouted from her SUV window as he
relocked the gate, “I’m goin’ with you, Gyrene—when I
want something I get my wa-aayyy!” And her vehicle
leaped onto the highway in a storm of dust and pebbles,
while he crouched to avoid the shrapnel.
She grabbed his sleeve. “Wait!” He shook loose again.
“No, wait a minute, Jack. I’ve got… I want to go with you.”
He wasn’t ready for it. “Huh?!”
“Yeah, I want to go with you—whatever it is.”
This time his laugh was unforced. He could just picture her
and her lovely derriere, her blond ponytail tucked up
under a beret or campaign hat, snooping and pooping in
some Godforsaken bush country, her freckles hidden by
camo paint, her shapely legs flexing in green utilities,
bosom thrusting at her bush shirt…
Actually, this was causing him some discomforting
sensations—and she was still talking! He longed to plug
his ears and run.
He interrupted her. “You have any nursing skills? Can you
set up camp and cook game? Or are you looking to be a
comfort lady?”
“What’s that—something dirty?”
“Uplift the troops’ morale.”
“Troops! So it is guerrilla stuff.”
“Pfft! You’ve got a one-track, mind, Sheila.”
During the argument everyone had straggled past and left
the parking lot, leaving their vehicles now alone. Dust
sifted down upon them unnoticed.
“I’m coming with you, Jack! I deserve a little adventure in
my life, too. If you won’t help I’ll worm it out of Brian. I’ll… ”
“If Brian ever gets within half a klick of you I’ll have his
scalp. If he ever says G’day I’ll… Well, never mind. Let’s
go—I’ll lock the gate.”
§ § §
Her last words were, shouted from her SUV window as he
relocked the gate, “I’m goin’ with you, Gyrene—when I
want something I get my wa-aayyy!” And her vehicle
leaped onto the highway in a storm of dust and pebbles,
while he crouched to avoid the shrapnel.