Sign something in blood,
Anyone’s blood,
Using a colonial quill.

What a joy to be born on this fabulous day, May 19th,
the same birthday as Pol Pot,
whose name doesn’t sound evil, more like something
you might make for dinner on a busy night.

I’ve set a trap for the Easter
bunny, made of carrot
flavored jelly beans

TOP HAT: Hello cellmates! Top Hat, esquire, at your service. It looks as though you will have the pleasure of my company for a little while. You see, I had the utter misfortune of landing on Go to Jail, and well, here I am! But, no worries, I’m sure we will have a grand ol’ time together! So, tell me, what brings the rest of you to this dreadfully decorated place of incarceration?

Shopping grounds me. I interpret my sense of personal success, as usual, on my alacrity and ability to bargain. Striking my Safeway card through the machine like a knife. The checker, a handsome teenager with a faint, pitiful mustache, fails to meet my gaze. Am I really so old? I ask him how his day went. The question misses him, no entry, no exit, no effect. Just fine. He hands me my two plastic bags. Ghosts to carry home.