173. sunk steven, deeply daned

try as they might, the bees set to flight,
and searched the whole seaboard for carpets to find,
i mean, it’s mclean, the rugs are just things,
looping, lie motionless, stuff in between

and carpet stores vanish, it’s been well established,
once a month, maybe, off the face of the planet — 
it’s been written up in papers, in books:
on in absentia of carpets whereof

(there’s a long title here, so sit with it, there’s
no reason (not much), it’s the only place where
this fellow, freemason, will yet be citated,
it’s just not a field that there’s too much debate in)

pause (for effect) the carpets allege
(the ones back behind, not the ones who have left)
a rapture divine, plus causes, applied
to the industrial output of east county cline

it’s a very dry read, and i wouldn’t (repeat)
i wouldn’t advise you to sit with it, he
mentions in forward the rapture of stores, then
400 pages of stats that will bore you

established, affirmed, by scholars confirmed,
stores have been disappearing for years, the concern
is what with the circus, the barn, and the circle
(carpet world, also) where will one purchase

i mean if your house has gone bald and run down
old carpet emporium was the last one around,
with people stampeding, hysterical, screaming
there’s no place like carpet (or no place to meet one)

carpets are cuddly, and soft, really lovely,
if people can’t have one, the posh start to shove, he’s
not a nice man, this bingling mcclan,
mclean, sure, whatever, but sells a nice shag

the question, of course, cause pirates are worst,
the last bag you’d bet would up, it’s absurd,
god is not great, he’s stupid and strange,
but he’s not going to call to him rug reprobates