I couldn't just stop after once, laughter
at how seriously my thoughts simmered
and shimmered like some holy tapestry
on some Arab temple's wall.
Then an epic on gluttons without scruples
or an enemy to cause need for pupils
who would cause need for Keepers of Tradition -
then I did one about roadkill.
I figured it was uphill from there,
and it was a particularly humid day
when I dreamt up a fable about detours from God
and sand dunes.
Now there's a sign on the door reading
and it doesn't even matter it's already June
because that news alone is a sweet enough tune.