Justin Stone's creekbed

songs, prayers, poetry, stories, art, photographs, moving pictures, fondnesses, tall-tales and meditations

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Location: missouri, el paso

The Anterior Insula and Hwy W

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

All I can remember of the dream
Is that the earnest Celebrity Relative
Of a Young Man Killed In A Snowball Fight—
Rather, killed when hit in the head
By a large rock packed in snow—
Is campaigning hard against snowball fights,
Struggling against the odds to raise awareness
While also promoting her next movie,
A charming picture called Snowman’s Folly
About an ill-fated, big-hearted Snowman
Who must get a quirky Celebrity Girlfriend
In order to break the spell he is under
And not melt into a puddle when winter ends.
“I really believe in this movie,” she tastily confides,
“And I really believe in Myself And My Dead Relative.”
“But snowball fights are fun,” somebody offers,
“And besides, you live in Southern California.”
The eager Celebrity Relative loses herself
And throws a rock hard at the head of her antagonist,
Dropping him with a direct strike to the temple.
“How fun was that?” she demands.