As always eyes gazed blind
at the phenomenon most obvious
which means a repeat ladder clamber
and make the missionary fuzzy, as in,
there was a fuzzy missionary
and this fuzzy missionary’s bosses
decreed he journey to a distant country
fixed as though screwed in a tropical sea;
alas the fuzzy missionary’s bosses
were in the dark about secret weaknesses
which for a fellow were not abnormal,
but for a missionary, even a slick
missionary, this kind of concealment
could hardly honor the reputation
of the boss even bigger than the fuzzy
missionary’s immediate bosses.
Well, hindsight, spilled milk, and all that jazz
indeed amounts to surplus info, much like
the marijuana in Washington.
Once he sunk his senses in coconut meat
and slid his toes in seaweed, it was finished.