|The Tale of Zachary, or Tea, Sometime?
Author: M. Soames PM
My first poem in who knows how long, it's rather depressing. The tale of Zachary is all about Zachary, and a crisis - in one night.Rated: Fiction T - English - Drama - Words: 552 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 1 - Published: 03-20-05 - id: 1864011
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A TALE OF ZACHARY
And, with a single tap, gone for the day.
Zachary turns his head, in the darkness,
And rises to leave - and return the next day!
Where the Xerox machines rest.
As he made a final copy for the day,
To be used the next, a light pulchratis did pour over him.
Twas the lady Mae, leaving for the day,
At this time of night, and - like Zachary -
To return again, the next day!
Treading the streets that all now dread.
Yes, here was his home:
A palace made of shards, shards of his dreams destroyed.
By his wife, Carmen - whore before, Spanish forever - smoking her pipe,
"That daughter of yours," she said as she puffed a great puff,
"She take after me, of that I am sure."
By the Spanish beauty's words.
"Out again! She is at some party, a party most vile:
Selling her body, her soul all the while."
"For if you have the address, I shall swing by, and find her.
Bring her home, or what is called home."
"Tis written somewhere in that room of hers - I'll find it!"
To rescue his daughter from her mother's regret.
She's your daughter Zachary, she's now a whore -
Oh, drive on Zachary, make haste, make haste!
Zachary ran up the porch, and in through a portal.
Inside, the horrors he saw - not fit for a man, not at all!
Smoke and smog, Spic and Wog - all are here, equally worthless as the next.
Her being twice a lover, in one moment.
Out he reeled her, she was still in a daze,
Zachary threw her into the Buick, and drove away.
This plucked flower, this sown field,
What to do?
O Zachary, Zachary, please do something! Anything!
Zachary left the car, the ignition still ignited.
He dragged his daughter now to the side of the bridge,
And, with little resistance, gave her to the river below.
All is as it was, as if it never were,
Down below, in the river, blue
With dreams at its bottom - tarnished gold.
His queen awaiting, breath baiting.
He told her sublimely that their daughter
Was nowhere to be found - he told her this kindly.
All this, for a whore, once their daughter?
O Zachary, surely you have done her a favor,
No more disgrace, no more - 16 years down a river.
He gave Mae a letter, the one he had copied
When Mae had been leaving.
The letter read: