Below the Great Toad

Rather than..
eke out a living as the head architect of God
I sit in gentle bars on Monday night
wondering how long the Toad has been sucking
Fort Garry dark
from a bong-like tap
on a schoolmaster’s chalkboard.
Or how a Black Mam[b]a
could fail to notice
the KISS-like changeling
stroking her hair.
This is philosophy.
We talk of breakfast at night
and France-French
and something funny is said about
religion.