My mound was all set for a lazy jaunt

Down memory lane - things were going nicely until

Without warning a deleterious chord rang out

& you recognized the shameful haircut reflected back at you

From the store window to be your own    But as luck would have it

There you were on the doorstep of the premises of a trader

Of fancy goods    Who just so happened to specialize

In quality affordable millinery    Only it turned out to be not the kind

Of affordable you were thinking of    Fortunately

A somewhat rickety occasional table near the entrance

Offered a range of pre owned items    Yet at closer

Inspection there was not a single one among them

Which would have looked out of place in a police photograph

Of some texas whorehouse massacre    After humming & hahing

A good while you finally plucked up the courage

To turn your face away & thrust in a hand    Upon edging back

To the counter you were relieved to note the jaded air

Of the proprietor    Who might have assumed your selection

To be a gift    Perhaps for a crazy

Old aunt    It was not until you found yourself once again

Out in the street that it dawned on you    The very handsome

Brown paper bag which carried your purchase would make a far

Superior alternative    You quickly ditched its contents

Fashioned a pair of eye holes in it & put it on    And at last

With the crisis alleviated a welcome sense of normalcy

& predictability returned to the town    Oh look    That funny little shack

With smoke curling from the chimney    So well known & loved by you

As a child    You rush to the window & peer inside    Sure enough

There is uncle darby receiving a blow job from his junkie girlfriend

Joan    Eyes glued to the television set    Another member of the family

My mound stumbles down to breakfast looking like

Something out of a madhouse etching - damned

If i know exactly what    For if the lines of tension are

Marvellous there is precious little else to go on    If the

                              boiled egg is topped distractedly

It is only to ensure the abyssal yolk doesnt swallow a fellow

Whole    Then one must devour it all at once for the voices

Sake    Before the men in diagnosticians hats appear pro

Nouncing an acute case of dulcet strain    Quickly crush the

Fragile empty shell into many fragments    You alone see

How one with infinite care might come to assemble such

Tiny shards into a kind of horn    Put on a nankeen jacket

As you approach the end of any sartorial life you could

Control    These grimaces are less incongruous than is at

First supposed    But toot gently    It will produce only that

Impossible lost note drifting between intervals   Practice

Makes torpid    Do these demons never remove their masks

Of apparent thoughtfulness    Indeed they do & a lot more

Besides    Then they dance around as if seized by conflicting

& transient  impulses    One takes another aside offering a

Guided tour of the toponyms dotted across his torso &

Buttocks   Molindone    Spiroperidol    Thiothixene    Thems

Some purdy names beams his companion    Only beware

The first resumes    Venture not into the matted hairy wilds

As they are haunted by the balloon folk    Whose king has a

Greatly long & narrow head expressive of insupportable

Dolor    If anyone asks tell them your name is herminet   

That you were born an inquisitive little bourgeoise for

Whom weird experiences are not enough    At that they will

Invite you to supper    Which you can hardly decline

Then a salt cellar will be pushed toward you