The Monster Speaks

it arrived one day
during a blizzard,
its snout full
of email messages,
salvaged from dying
ocean-going freighters.

and near the platform
for the speech one might
see the river, murky, muddy,
cold, for spring was
still lurking weeks
from now,
a bitter lesson
for those listeners wearing
togs not toggled
for bitterness.

too close to his audience,
the monster began,
spitting paper while
drinking mocha from
multiple paper cups,
provided by Starbucks,
which only wanted to
pacify him.

but speech-making leads to
pomposity, and monsters
are not discreet,
not discerning,
so most
of the audience
wandered off, seeking
Kleenex to wipe
spittle from
lips and hair.

but to the point, demands
were made, spittle
formulated, and said
monster left,
a vision of might
put-off, put-down
and angered.

the destruction was
mild in retrospect,
but major damage to
buildings seemed to rival
those shots from KING KONG,
some old movie
relevant only now,
after the monster
retired, resting
for his appearance
later, in the spring,
at Augusta National
when his tee time
followed Tiger's
(or so it was
rumoured).