Tuesday, March 31, 2015

Come play in my sandbox

I once was party to an agitated woman on a bus. She was standing near the rear door in a very angry and upset state. Other passengers were definitely being disturbed by her vocal rampage although it was not possible to understand what she was agitated about...

Vengeance be mine
Cruel heart grows benign?
Smug soul is betrotten
The stink is plain rotten

So... This kind youngish fellow passenger did us all a favour. She began with a quiet exaltation of the agitated woman's mother's army boots. She went on to appreciate the distraught woman's tangled hair, her mismatched boots, and her stained outlandish coat and shawl. For a glorifying finally, she congratulated the now screaming specimen of the untouchable cast on the operatic qualities of her vocal cords. Well, at the next bus stop the screaming woman flew open the rear doors and deposited herself on the curb, the whole time shaking her fist at our now vanishing bus. Most everyone was cheering...

Come play in my sandbox
I've only got smallpox
We'll vanquish all nations
Ordnances grander than guns

The story is told of this outlandish woman who wore mismatched boots and a stained coat and shawl. She stood on the corner of 5th and Main shaking her fist in the air and emitting a horrendous scream at every #14 bus that passed by. I knew her well, I rode that bus every day for 7½ years...

Where do we go from here, from here?
Where do we go from here?
Why, to institutions where they wear cute smocks
Won't you please come and play in my sandbox?
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