Baudelaire sits in my living room trimming candle wicks and his toenails
with a pen knife.
A Nor' Easter blows into town
like a circus running from debt.
He asks for a lantern. I show him how to turn on the floor lamp
and overhead lights, but no luck. He sits in the dark.
The wind keens, the moans of dinosaurs
wailing their extinction.
I have to read him the Wiki article on Fleurs du Mal over and over, like reading
Goodnight Moon to a child. He appears to understand English.
Lightning from Dr. Frankenstein
bringing his monster to life.
He wears his flâneur costume with that floppy bow tie.
He's back to picking his toes.
Gusts of snow mad as hornets
sting my face.
Let's be honest, the opium and syphilis have not been kind to him. His skin is mottled
and orange like a pumpkin.
And then leaves town, vamoose,
with the runaway girl.
Shay’s Word Garden
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qbit 
See, this is what you get when you let possums read too much Margaret Wise Brown mixed with dead French poets! In their mad pursuit of edible trash and higher learning, and with all those brats on their backs, lady possums can go a little bit bonkers, especially being left outdoors in inclement weather when the fireside is so cozy and there’s just you there, hogging it all. Why don’t you say to the possums, stop running all over the place, and stay here and be my little possum? If you don’t, you’re a poop head. Or so I read. 😛
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Yes, yes, that must be it! Exactly. And also, “Baudelaire is a poop head!” I think that’s in there too.
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Preposterous and wacky at it’s finest!! It is a mad mad world for Baudelaire!! You never disappoint Qbit!! Love it!! Now I am heading to the Mall for a pedicure and grilled cheese sandwich!!! LOL
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Swirling/twirling, up/down in a phantasmagorical never/never land now.
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Sounds like it’s a character you know well and have a fond affection for. I love this part:
“A Nor’ Easter blows into town
like a circus running from debt.”
What a great and lively poem.
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Thank you!
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this is what happened when you invite french poets over for dinner, this is also what happens if you don’t invite them over. i recommend keeping duct tape handy. this was fun to read, very well put together
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LOL, thanks.
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Poor Baudelaire. He obviously spent way too much time stopping to smell the flowers of evil. This cracked me up, qbit, and it’s full of great similes and turns of phrase, as others have quoted. I wish *my* possums could write this well. All they want to do is eat marshmallows and spew out the occasional substandard haiku.
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LOL! Thanks.
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This is pure gold. How can you not love a piece with that opening line?
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