Postcard From Beyond The Looking Glass

I said goodbye to sanity one Thursday late in June.

I kissed it fondly on the cheek and gave it a balloon.

It soared into the clear blue sky under a gibbous moon.
I shed a melancholic tear and sang a mournful tune.
I parted from reality, after a pipe or two,
And surfed across dimensions on a wave of irish stew,
The recipe for which was told me by an old gnu,
In transit on a scooter to romantic rendezvous.
The first postcard I sent en route to Lunacy was dear,

I bought it in a kasbah in a back street in Tangier,

From five performing oysters with a taste for yorkshire beer,

And all with scottish accents, which I found a little queer.
The terminal provided for the weary and confused,
Was furnished quite eclectically to calm and keep amused
The screw deficient travellers, who wandered and perused
The waiting room in search of comfy chairs on which to snooze.
My life now is anomalous, with chaos everywhere,
But I've made most uncommon friends, and what we have we share.

I spend my time with Baxter, an eccentric white March hare,

And I am happy here beyond the looking glass somewhere.

... wish you were here ツ

JH

Copyright © 2011 Jonathan Humble