Today was a Peculiar Day

Today was a peculiar day
I walked down from my apartment
and received a letter from a Samoan mailman,
who gave me a smile and a handshake,
calling me by name.
“I’ve never met you. But here’s some money.”
he said to me.
I took the envelope he handed me
and saw that it had two hundred dollars...
and a phone number.
His phone number.
Today was a peculiar day.
I walked into the local cafe,
it was half past noon
and a police officer was sitting in my usual spot.
I sat next to her and greeted warmly
“Lovely morning, isn’t it?”
The officer quickly looked at me,
then grabbed the fork from the counter and
stabbed me in my hand, screaming
“Praise Muloch, Muloch be praised!”
I was later told by a real police officer
that that woman was an escaped mental convict
who had killed a couple officers
right before entering that cafe.
Today was a peculiar day.
It was evening, a quarter to six
when I found myself in a limousine,
entertaining a group of rich revelers.
I told them grand lies of how I was also rich,
they then told me grand tales of their own richness,
of drunken college days and drawing lines in class
and smoking plants in the rec rooms.
I told them I joined a secret sex society
and once had to have sex with a dead pig carcass.
So impressed with my licentiousness
they elected me into politics,
and I met with foreign dignitaries and partied
until the late dawn hours.
Because today turned everyday into a peculiar day.


Day, Jennings Parker, Peculiar, Poem, Poetry,

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