Roshambo

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Nate Sniffen

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In the middle of the night
Pipers piping changing diapers
Sounded the alarm
On the farm
By the barn
A horde of coyotes formed and stormed the gate
The moon was righteous
And the sight of it inspired the pipers to dance
So they put on dancing pants
And they danced in a field of plants
Before rows and rows of tomatoes
And an audience of toads
The moon shone and shone
Dependently ringing off its hook
The sun had it's number of course
From the phone book
The coyotes looked at the moon
Regarding it with the independence of a broom
Some lifeless phosphorescent balloon
It burned into the tombs of their eyes as they eyed the skies
Some witches were approaching the farm
Wearing basic britches of yarn
They were singing a chant about "trying hard"
As they used their legs to move forward

The witches in basic britches had no plan in mind
Perhaps they would scour the fields for vines
Or find an orchard with trees to climb
Or a meadow in which to meditate
Or see who could draw the most perfect eight
They dined on what they ate as well as ultrathinker inner monologues
They got their kicks purely by coincidence
Like fuel for the furnace
As luck would have it the witches met the pipers
As the coyotes discovered them
Forming a viable triangle
Was it happenstance or pliable orchestral will
In the shadows something quivered
Moving the congregation to shiver for a sliver
A whisper
The situation slithered
Sealed and delivered by regional legions of being

It was the middle of the night somewhere
Always somewhere the gears turned
Turning all into else
Shelves and shelves of shelves
Shelving shelves of shells of cells
Cellular spectacular
Ribosomes etcetera
Ultrathinking progenitors chanting
Tally ho
Hop on the rotisserie
Brothers sisters
No one in particular

Rock paper scissors
Rock paper scissors

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