Politeness is key.

It was midnight when I wrote this. I don't know what it means, but it came out of my head.

I always wondered what I would say,
how,
and when I would.
But all I keep hearing is the intercom voice in my head,
nonsense pouring from her open ended plastic bowl.

"And the man marched forward on his hands and his knees,
with a flower cup between his teeth.
Interruptions are rude, he thinks.
Politeness is key.

         Open your mouth but don't let the words come out.
He should learn to listen.
And while you two are mulling over tea,
I'll ask a key question in favor of my leather bound shoes,

with non dirty soles.

Who are you?
Who am I indeed.
You answer like you are the question being asked.

It is my ship and you have been the captain for too long.
No, no.
You've been trying to be the captain.
But all you want to do is throw around the word love with money,
and watch HBO family like it's Christmas vacation all over again.

Watch yourself or those pants will get too tight.

And so the construction zone permits but one,
and only one,
along the detoured route assigned to the color brown.
He does not see it but you do.
And he does not see it but you do.
And he does not see it but you do.

So you run like Christopher Alchemy,
and dance towards being free,
because he does not see it but you do.

He must close his eyes to learn to see,
ah yes,
because he has torn down the sticks that build the tree.
Can't have that.
No.
Can't have that.

So take him queen bee and dispose of his honey,
because he thinks he is good enough for you.
Oh,
he thinks he is good.

He is not an evil man,
but he does give it a hand every once and a while,
walking down the aisle while you stand there in pointed slippers,
waiting till you can throw your showered good blessings.

And so he marches forward on his hands and his knees,
with a flower cup between his teeth.
Open your mouth but don't let the words come out.
He must learn to listen.

Politeness is key."