Blunderland

The streetlights glowed

Chrystal white

Against a confetti veil

Of falling snow

We looked to the left, looked to the right

Picked nowhere in particular

To go

The champagne was nestled

In the crook of your scarecrow arm

We thought we’d spend

The rest of our lives

Never hearing an alarm

Blunderland, Blunderland

I guess it’s hard to understand

How heavy reality rests

In the palm of an ordinary man

Blunderland

There was a man dressed

Like Santa

Slumped against a blue mailbox

His cotton-beard was decorated

With an authentic December frost

You leaned to touch his shoulder

He acted like he’d been throttled

He called you a cop

And tried stealing your

Cherry-tinted bottle

Blunderland, Blunderland

We got into our hotel

And there was an isosceles

On the wall

You gazed upon

The street beneath us

Said, “it doesn’t feel like I thought.”

So I held you from behind

Put a peck on your left ear

Told you, “You’ve only been

Conditioned by cinema, my postmodern dear.”

Blunderland, Blunderland

But still you were troubled

And ambled for the inviting emerald

Loveseat

With a mirthless sigh and muttered, “why,”

You kicked the suede boots from

Your ballerina feet

You let the bubbly

Simply sink against your side

I was suddenly gripped by the realization

You would never be my bride

Blunderland, Blunderland

I said, “Monica, please rise,”

And your fluttered eyes meant you were

Listening

I told ya, “don’t let this city get you down, because someday

We’ll be reminiscing,”

Over the whirlwind since graduation

And the noises in our heads

The little crack in the corner of your ceiling

Where those nocturnal spiders

Spun their fragile webs

Blunderland, Blunderland