In a desperate attempt to make it look like I am updating with more frequency, I am going to post an Ode that I wrote at the request of a former co-worker and awesome dude (who subsequently became my prophet).

So, without further ado, I present to you…

Ode to a Movie Theatre

You shut out the world, a hermetically sealed vacuum;
A glittering, garish offense.
Some painted-up lady in a Western saloon
Who flirts with chap-wearing gents.

Your innards are spotted with tumorous satellites,
Colonies of capitalism and food
Flowing with buttery, ideological bites,
For each Mum or Dad and their brood.

But if one of those fat little entertainment seekers -
With tickets clenched in chubby wee fists -
Stopped stuffing their faces and opened their peepers,
They might notice a something like that which is this:

The brilliance which radiates from talented workers,
Service with a “smile” as they rush to and fro -
Especially that girl who served pizza to lurkers.
She sure was fantastic: where’d she go?

And also that cool kid who runs things back in BK -
With his doughy pal Vinnie/Vincenzo,
He sure keeps a tight ship and his burgers are “A-OK”
And those meal-toys are bitchin’, bro!

My brain has gone sleepy and it’s getting late, so I’ll bring this ode to a close.
(A concluding simile to fill in this line: theatres are like garden gnomes)

Though rightly you’ll say that my little ode sucks, it technically cannot be prose.
The meter is wrong; the feet have run off – but it rhymes, so it must be a poem!

(Keep in mind when considering gifts to praise my brilliance that I only accept cash and expensive designer items).