Tonight I will go down into the pit of my stomach
to hunt butterflies with a shotgun and machete,
destroying them mercilessly so their lifeless eyes
will no longer mock me with the prospects of failure.
I refuse to ponder odd lessons thoughtlessly
put forth that are not in our best interest,
like scenes straight out of hells nursery rhymes
designed to scare us into keeping on our yokes.
Pour me into crystal glasses and serve me
along with a good, sensible cheese
so I can leave a taste on your tongue,
fruity, with bright tannins and nuances of nuts.
Later, we can both nod soberly as hollow advice
is allowed to float harmlessly away on the wind,
with only a red handprint left on my cheek in
evidence of the mock anger that I made you laugh.
-- by Steve McKennon, 2/2/07