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Sunday, April 15, 2012
Ode to Lord Monochromicorn Oh, lord of towering blackness, you stomp and scratch a Morse Code greeting I don’t un- derstand as I only speak an absence of color, shades of grey. We would have been friends in high school. You, too, would say Faith is the Cure’s best album—your hooves tapping out your argument, slowly, your mane back-combed into a Robert Smith fright-hawk. Are you old now, like me? Or are you as ageless and cartoon-smooth as on T.V., with Prince Gumball, Fiona, and Cake? I see your grownup, stern side—all servitude and business— but there must be another side where you’re Lord Monochromiporn with a cat harem. |