automated
facilitated
happy belated
birthday
see a play
curds and whey
porridge
open fridge
there's a squidge
on the shelf
help yourself
to the twelfth
night
ethereal light
don't fight
the instinct
to blink
and sink
down under
a clap of thunder
torn asunder
from your mind
don't look behind
you

-me

It's a jazz affair, drum crashes and cornet razzes.
The trombone pony neighs and the tuba jackass snorts.
The banjo tickles and titters too awful.
The chippies talk about the funnies in the papers.
The cartoonists weep in their beer.
Ship riveters talk with their feet
To the feet of floozies under the tables.
A quartet of white hopes mourn with interspersed snickers:
"I got the blues.
I got the blues.
I got the blues."
And . . . as we said earlier:
The cartoonists weep in their beer.

-Carl Sandburg "Honky Tonk in Cleveland, Ohio"
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muahaha! cool show

and so, with a naught but the sweet sound of wrapping paper and a heart breaking, valentine's day leaves with a whimper.