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.