What Happened One Night In My Attic Studio As I Started Writing A Poem About a Rabbit Playing Tennis

What Happened One Night In My Attic Studio As I Started
Writing A Poem About A Rabbit Playing Tennis

I started writing a poem about a rabbit playing tennis
when suddenly Morgan Freeman and Charlton Heston
and Meryl Streep were taking turns reading my poem
out loud as cherry blossoms began snowing from my
hair onto what had just been my old blue sweatpants,
but were now a pair of purple satin vintage palazzos.

Then autumn leaves began swirling around what mere
moments before had been my chair but was now a gold
and mahogany bicycle sailing me through the dining room
of the Hearst Castle. I blinked and the bike changed into
a gondola being steered by The Pioneer Woman through a
field of California poppies where little mice dressed in ball
caps and togas were dancing jigs and singing “Hey Jude.”

Just when I thought the night couldn’t get any weirder, the
gondola turned back into my chair and I was flung by the
wind to the top of a pine tree overlooking a fancy French
street cafe where people were either throwing pastries at
each other or playing violins made out of recycled canoes.

I blinked again and my chair fell out of the tree and into a
tornado spinning westwards across the ocean and finally
home through my attic window. Boy — was I glad to be
back safe and sound in my little garrett, with Blue Bunny at
his laptop eating apples and surfing the tennis gear sites.

Jannie Funster

Posted over on her site Jannie Funster: Will Sing for Donuts & Beer