By: Devin Kira Murphy
The journal made it to Unicamp
Well to this day we still don’t know how
Was it in Judy’s bag?
Or was it whisked in by telepathy powered shack blimp?
Or was it mashed by Frank’s bar hands into a bole of almond butter and banana?
The journal made it to Unicamp
It was red by everyone and I do mean everyone including Kit’s spirit during the astral projection workshop
And some naked youth at the clothing optional beach
Yes it was even red in one of the caves by Stephen and Albert
And then, “dos anyone now where the journal is?” said Sophy
Had we lost it last night wen Harriet showed up and started steeling all our marshmallows wile we sat around the campfire singing folk songs like Joni Mitchell’s The Circle Game?
Posted in poems, Unitarian Universalism
Tagged Albert, camp, campfire, caves, clothing optional beach, folk songs, Frank, Harriet, Joni Mitchell, Judy, Kit, marshmallows, Sophy, Stephen, summer camp, The Circle Game, The Journal, Unicamp
By: Devin Murphy
Judy woke up and found the room was filling with a red ooze
She grabbed the journal, but she couldn’t find any of her garish red wigs so she crawled vigorously out the nearest window
She managed to get out into the cold rain without even getting one drop of ooze on her
But she did shatter the glass of the window as she crawled away
Once out of the room she breathed a sigh of relief ’cause she was rid of the smell of papaya
But what to do with the journal she mused as she whispered softly under her breathe, “I can’t stay in the rain and do I dare let anyone see my naturally very bald head”
She decided that she had to cover her head with something, so off to her neighbourhood wig shop, Harry Harrison’s Fine And Everyday Wig Emporium
When Judy got their she found that they were out of her preferred choice of long red wigs
So she looked to see if they had any long strawberry blond wigs but to her surprise they were out of long strawberry blond wigs and all other shades of blond, even all the other shades, lengths and types of women’s wigs
In fact they where out of all men’s wigs except one sort brown conservative looking wig with a part on the left side
So Judy bought it ’cause she was desperate
But she knew she could not let herself be seen in it
Ok she did know that she had to wear it
So what was she going to do?
Well she thought maybe I could disguise myself as a young man, ’cause after all the wig is meant for a man’s head
So after she had gone to Harry Harrison’s Fine And Everyday Wig Emporium and her local Salvation Army Thrift Store, she was looking good in a pair of definitely not baggy men’s brown and flaming yellow coloured plaid slacks, a man’s definitely vary tight flaming yellow coloured dress shirt, a man’s brown coloured suit jacket, a pair of men’s brown coloured dress socks, a pare of brown coloured dress shoes and a men’s short brown conservative looking wig with a part on the left side, she was ready to be seen
So off she went looking like a fool with the journal in hand just in time for the coffee house that her young adult group was putting on
When she got to the fellowship room of her church the one that was located in The Big Brown Mall between Direct Subs and The Make Your Own Sup Noodle And Robotic Hair Transplant Outlet Store, subsequently nestled in the not so anonymous suburb of Buffalo, she signed up to read poetry
She said hear name was Jude
None suspected a thing
She red the poem scrawled on the third page of the duct tape journal in red permanent marker It was titled “Fail Slumber, Rattail Slumber” It went:
“Myself attempted to slumber but myself received a not good, not good rattail
It went hi, hi, hi
fall, fall, fall
Slumber or no slumber
Myself was having backed doughy sweat rounds with person in yellow avian costume sought or was it with advisor of persons of not yet adult age and no longer age of child on the rocky side edge of the street with a long green latex vine vegetable?
…looking empty into universe…
…sensing symphony in mined…
Oh no! This fail slumber is administering myself not good rattail or is it not good rattail administering myself fail slumber?
Not good slumber…
Rocky side edge of the street…
Long green latex vine vegetable…
doing myself no good there better not be an outdoor cooking apparatus in the vicinity ’cause myself don’t desire outdoor cooked long green latex vine vegetable
What is that rattail doing with advisor of persons of not yet adult age and no longer age of child?
Myself believed it was my rattail
Not good slumber
Oh myself! Oh my! Oh how come!
P.S. Bring me out of rem sleep, Rudy-and, you sill have not mention to myself who the heated exclamatory is Hank?”
So after she had finish reading the poem she left the coffee house via sneaking out a nearby side doer ’cause she did not want to be revealed
Ones out of her church the one that was located in The Big Brown Mall between Direct Subs and The Make Your Own Sup Noodle And Robotic Hair Transplant Outlet Store, subsequently nestled in the not so anonymous suburb of Buffalo she noticed that she was being followed so she tuck off dawn an alleyway like a big old dog running after a rabbit
When she got to the end of the alleyway she was approached by her follower, a young woman who went by Kit, a member of her young adult group
She recognized her right away
They got it on with angry heated passion right their in the darkened alleyway
All they left behind was a big oily pool of sweat and the journal…