A Toast to Happy Endings.

Half blind we see, half deaf we hear
enlightened though we wish to be
it's sometimes just pure chance.
when the clearest issue is I wanna live,
there's still so much to tickle.

I walked in weekend stupor into an alley,
a 9-foot monster waiting there,
wailing there, foaming at the lobster there,
gnashing his fangs,
an almost pitifully sight
had he only been imagined!

Make believe is every horror
until it manifests itself as brutal.

As I said,I walked into this cannon
half doused, half awake
but in the fright regained sobriety,
I see myself in Cyclops' pot
an almost hapless situation
my bongos wildly skipping parts,
I turn albino, no easy feat
'cause I'm dark but comely.

Admitting my fate is sealed,
somehow in the quirky game of odds,
I sense a shift in my direction,
and silently say a prayer, a "let it be,"
the Amen in liturgy and common language.

And so it was that something invisible and voiceless
said to me, dance the dance of The Seven Veils only make it fun
And dance I did, at first a shy and half ass jig,
until the needle fell in the groove,
and jig I jigged the jigger up at least by several notches,
which caused His Monster-ness, to pause,
emit a hiccup, then a giggle
one giggle leading to another
he split right down the middle
and then erupted into a frenzy of insane laughter.

What sweet relief
to see the beast upon his back
in stitches rolling and roaring
while I zip through his haunt in sonic boom
in leotards and slippers.
Out of sight is out of pot till he sees in fact
his supper has gone missing.

Call it fate, call it heart,
call it what you wanna
fate and chance is neither deaf nor mute
who having fingers ten in all,
use twelve to commune in obscure signals
the day I jigged in the face of death,
and lived to tell the about it.