A Labyrinth

Ok, I don’t believe in voodoo,
but there is some bad,
bad Joujou,
in the air.

I am trying not to breathe it in,
holding my breath,
delaying the inevitable.
It will effect me.

Progressive deterioration,
dangerous aberrations,
vengeful adulterations.
There is bad,
bad Joujou,
out there.

Sudden explosive destruction,
volcanic force building to eruption,
erratic, unhealthy consumption.
Bad Joujou.

Appetites suppressed,
indulged, over expressed,
everything seems depressed.
Bad Joujou.

Help me keep away the voodoo.
I don’t want tragedy to call,
I won’t hear anything at all,
I will build a wall.
I will wear a hard hat,
and carry a big bat.
Try to intimidate the Joujou.

But when all my defenses fail,
when I have fought to no avail,
I hope you will pay my bail,
love will prevail,
and I’ll get to sigh,
take a deep breath,
inhale.

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Sudden heavy downpour,
and a pretty preacher man,
from Baton Rouge,
suddenly,
under my flimsy umbrella.

Preach darling,
you are such a handsome Southern fella.

Your accent is delightful,
and your suit,
is stunning, beautiful.

Oh, you’d like to start a church here?
This is the number of the agency I work for, dear.

Call me,
I’d like to hear you speak,
I am a good Jewess,
but you can still tell me all about the poor and the meek.

Call me, pretty preacher man,
I’ll convince you to be a chosen child.
Call me, pretty preacher man,
isn’t this rain just wild????

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Sloshing in my head,
a school of tuna
and a few hammerhead sharks.
I keep pulling up guppies,
but I’ll throw them back.
I’ll keep fishing,
till I catch the holy mackerel.

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The Dutchman is a polyglot,
a collector of vocabularies,
and cultures,
and antiquaries.
Educated,
and erudite;
art,
poetry,
philosophy,
theology,
science,
he could confidently recite,
them all.
But what more,
he is polite.
He is not pompous,
and although he is elite,
he is always very sweet.
He is just a nice Dutchman,
who knows a lot.
My intelligent Dutch friend,
is quite the polyglot.

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Angry,
and I just can’t contain me.
Charm me,
court me,
convince me,
but above all there should be,
passion.
God help you,
if that is what’s lacking.
A marriage is love plus all the stuff,
that you need.
And if you have the stuff,
but not the love,
then I am sorry,
that is a sign from above,
that you are not a match, my dove.
A lifetime lover is someone with whom you can have fun,
who makes your heart jump.
Something in missing?
What are you trying for?
You should not have to try so hard.
If when she is close,
you don’t skip 50 yards,
then honey,
honey,
let it go,
before you are,
jaded and marred.
Arrogant child,
this is destiny,
not luck,
you just haven’t met her yet,
wait,
and in the meantime,
give this one up.

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Like the ruler of the Gods,
like Jupiter,
you explode with personality,
pulling me close,
with your powerful gravity.
I am drawn to you,
compelled to be one of your moons,
to circle,
to dance with you.
You have the power,
to revive me like Hyacinth,
transform me to flowers.
Can I be your Juno?

Or perhaps you are Saturn,
and I could be your rings,
and we could shine in the midnight,
Queens and Kings.

Or maybe,
we are each our own pie in the sky,
ridiculous and celestial,
at the same time.

Mi Amoré,
I am yours.

Be mine?

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