What Intended To Be Praise Of A Cold Shower...

(became something else (tau welled),
and tolled at this hour).

Though hermetically sealed within
this temperature
controlled quite bare
able (sixty degrees Fahrenheit,

the lowest possible central air
conditioned setting) insulated
one bedroom unit at clear
lee maintained Highland

Manor Apartments (where
vacant units frequently available
at this low cost facility, (deer
and the antelope play amidst

a wooded strip) fair,
lee enshroud above this
tranquil, serene, and hare
wren there, a quotidian

refulgent quite pastoral lair
ideal nooks and crannies
to read, which
non paid for plug 'ere)

won can seclude themselves
from the madding crowd gear
ring up to see return
of the native sob
bummer, day dreamer, flounderer

Matthew Scott Harris,
whose shut eye evoked,
a place he did revere
within the outer limits of the twilight

named Willoughby, while in
deep sleep he did mare
to his quasi
(caught in moat oh) mistress
sweet heart Lady Chatterley

(in an storybook parable
setting) analogous
to Sleepy Hollow where
a lookalike of

Rip Van Winkle
only added insult to injury,
when the "FAKE" headless
donned horseman got trumped

by a transexual, queer,
nudist, k9, homosexual,
eunuch corn, where
a cold shower shook

and didst scare
away every last
vestige I swear
so realistic disappointment arose,
when vision didst appear.