Red Balls Dropp Like Riddles From The Sky Poem by Johnny Noir

Red balls dropp like riddles from the sky,
The glowering green gnome whose face is naught,
The thought too severe,
God likes it this way, she said—
I pulled at the string like a cat
Tugging on a ball of yarn
And the seesaw and swing set
Sent electricity through her,
The cat died and was reborn as an elf—
Does this trouble you?
Jutting city slopes of ice cream,
Tea and cakes like you were expecting
The queen of all cats,
The mother of the ten gentlemen
In duchamp masks lethargic at the door—
But why didn’t she tell me?
You have something like that in your face,
A chilidog like expression,
But only the old ones know or remember you,
In the theater of the Id there are no monsters
But maitre’d that are only children,
Deranged beyond belief,
Baffled by science and their own programming—