A day like this in early April
loves a tumble a pratfall
A spit take accompanied by
a zoomflute a rimshot a kazoo
Maybe that’s why practical jokers
Love April 1; it’s the silly season:
Put ’em to bed with a zephyr
Wake ’em up with a blizzard.
Make ’em roll up their sleeves and
start the garden then roll it over
under an ice storm
— show ’em who’s boss.
For instance: it’s dark outside.
Now, I can light a bunch of
candles, turn on klieg lights
strobe lights roman candles;
I can stand there holding up a match
‘Till my yikkin’ fingers singe
but it’ll still be dark up in the sky
up there where it matters.
I don’t even know why it matters
But down here in Wistful Vista
Where our closets are piled and
Ready to avalanche on our heads
At the least provocation,
Innocent though it may be,
We don’t really get the joke
And you can’t explain it:
Either you get it or you don’t.
