The Song From Last Week

Serenely sitting in mass.
The angelic voices sing their chants.
The men all kneel in khaki pants.
I, I too sit in the congregation
I in my straightened hair
I am calmy sitting there,

with irreverent lyrics raging through my head like a stampede of attacking water buffalo.
my friend she said, oh! listen to this! at least a week ago. We giggled about it, jested a bit.
Why have they crawled from their file of forgotten-ness crawled up my dress
devilishly climbing into my ear?
at first just a whisper, in mid-service,
I shoo it away as a pesky fly
but then, it becomes a blaring fog horn!
beating and beating the irksome tune inside my head.
and beating and beating and beating and beating.
playing the same horrid line over and over and over again.
Dear god have mercy on me, this is torturous!

My head opens like the San Andreas Fault,
shoots of neon yellow stars spring out
tye dye flames spill over the bowl of my brain
tiny blue creatures hike up the side of my head and leap out
with high pitched glee
lions roar and giant cats explode from my eyes
shoes of different sizes fall and beat the same beat
they dance and surround me, dancing with the rainbows
green sludge oozes from my ears and spills,
half drowning me
the noise is unbearable
drums and screaming and shrill laughter
scraping and grinding and trumpets
My vision sees nothing except sheer lunacy,
brilliant madness, a cartoon of utter chaos.
I can barely stand it, it is too much to handle
I feel as a water balloon bursting with liquid,
a tight jean stressing the seams
no, make this all go away
I can not stand it!!!


And then it is over, I have not moved a muscle,
from my hard pew, I see that nothing has changed,
Unassuming and unremarkable, I sit, as any other normal person in the Church.
Except with that same whisper
That same steady beat, wearing down my sanity.

-Pamplemousse