metonymy4u

                        Trouble at the hand doctor

I got there and then felt fear.
Though my heart was in my throat, I sat near
and saw the way out: a door, a sign, a path for me free.
I said I thought you were a heart guy.
He said how strange, how queer, I
thought you were a deer
from Uruguay.
Well that hit me like a string of wheat
in a broth of Rome fed beef, or a show of dreams
in which Nat King Cole sang smooth
as a clam sauce stew.
Moon, he sang, moon o moon
o joy full moon! And it rang over my house
and shone like apple rum glaze,
a ride on a current of rich old cheese.
My fear left me then.
It was gone like sun light on a thin stream line:
my life a sip of gin.
Or ice that melts
in a glass full of sin.