15 October 2006 | Vol. 6, No. 3
It Could've Been a Centerfold
I remember the story: it was a hot day.
The hero disappeared behind enemy lines.
(gratuitous fruit beeps in the background)
The rabdomancer masked a tendency
for cocktail umbrellas, old whatevers.
The ending included ten linguist opossums
and Bukowski in tea-leaf attire.
The rejection slip between pages
59 and 60 of Sartre's Being and Nothingess,
may butterfly a rustle,
may Marxist balloon a hayloft for some funeral.