The Little Drummer Boy
Preparing for the apocalypse. Preparing to shoot down Prince Charming. Preparing to take the bull by the horns. On your toes, dyslexic ballerina, get ready for the show.
Apocalypse, a pair of lips, zippered lips, secrets in lockdown. The spy sidles in from the cold, ill-prepared for the grilling. He should have stayed out there and shivered his boots off, there’s no warmth for the difficult drummer.
Tin drum, kettle drum, drum the tomfoolery out of him and there’s nothing left but a wisp of smoke. Everywhere he turns, something grates on him.