I

Two days previous,
I feasted at the Elm Street Kitchen,
falling upon the victual succulence
of the Wednesday breakfast
.
To the corner I embarked, a gathering
of congregational parlancing,
and resting my laurels, my gear,
find whimsical flight in the bumblebee
settling upon my right shoulder,
thus without fear did I gather a rider
who held steady with my intransitive path
for perhaps thirty seconds
.
I suggested to my fair yellow fellow,
that he brought fine tidings, good fortunes upon the horizon,
and without a flutter he muttered
assent in stoic silence
.
Finally, upon the third glance, absence.
The captivation ended, infatuating breath ascending to the lily paths
along the rear walls of the Catalyst
.
So it was to be that the day passed,
so it transpired that I should make scratch
at the S.A.F.E in front of New Leaf,
ten dollars for a grain of sand,
and then, being the poet and despondent
towards overindulgence in the inertia
of sobriety, sought out a beer and lottery
.
Behold! What do I see, but 50 bills on a
single scrap of paper, and thus, finding fortunes gratification at last, pick up a glass chateau of delicate bouquet and heady disposition