Monster Holiday

“Careful with that,”

said the monster

to the mover

with the glass jar

full of knapsacks and toes,

“and that too,”

he said (or was it she?)

of the mirror

with knapped edges.

Arrow,

enter the moon,

buy a statue of love.

Court a courtly lover,

grease the banjos in their apartments

sadly going over the figures

of department store dummies

still wearing the light

green seersucker dresses

of a 1970’s dream,

still asking for extra,

whichever it might be,

whether syrup or milk,

ointment or string.

Climbed up the fire escape with a noose

Sat on a stone sill. Said,

“Why kill yourself?

You’re gonna die anyway.”

It made a lot of sense,

peered in at the door

for a look at something

far from ordinary, though dull.