For today’s prompt we first fill in an Almanac Questionaire and then write a poem with the answers as the foundation.

Almanac Questionnaire

Weather: Breezy
Flora: Beach palms and succulents
Architecture: Bungaloid
Customs: Surfer casual
Mammals/reptiles/fish: Dogs, sea lions, a camel, three prancing iguanas, a bluefish
Childhood dream: Chased by a witch
Found on the Street: Skee-Ball token
Export: Coconuts
Graffiti: WHY, MOMMY, WHY
Lover: A second cousin to the Welsh Witch
Conspiracy: Fezzed Disrupticons
Dress: chiffon and swimsuits
Hometown memory: Scary skateboarding
Notable person: Sidney Greenstreep
Outside your window, you find: A note from a witch
Today’s news headline: GUN FIRES MAN INTO CROWD
Scrap from a letter: “…Darling, do let’s give Andalucia a pass this year. I hear…”
Animal from a myth: Stripey-assed ape
Story read to children at night: Goodnight Keith Moon
You walk three minutes down an alley and you find: A fez that fits perfectly
You walk to the border and hear: “They haven’t found the testicles yet…”
What you fear: The Fez may unattract the witch
Picture on your city’s postcard: Mai Tais frosty and alfresco

Witch. You Were Here!

The ideal spy is a burnt surfer dude
Unlike a Keanu but as not not as rude
On a double-up shift in a line cookie’s snood
Doing stewy Crab Louie per Newbie’s new mood.

And that’s me, and you see that I want me a witch
So unlike the spiked dream of the son of a bitch
That I was as a kid ere the Steve y Nicks niche
Roped me well with a spell that compelled me to switch.

Had my eye for a guy in a velvety Fez
With a touch of Farouk and a dash of the Rez
And a Greenstreep bum sneer and a note from the Prez
Who’d embezzled the topazzed disheveled-head Pez.

With my shift done and Dino the Boss’s “Bye, Pallie”
I disposed of my apron and Snood O’ the Valley
And was out on a stroll when I spied down an alley
A betasseled Wine-Castled bright Fez fit for Sally.

And that’s short for Salvador. That would be me.
I put on the fez and Praise Perfect-Fit Be
But it summoned Disrupticons, fezzed and aspree
With impressionist surge. My discretion said “Flee.”

And yet just like the dream of the Witch long ago
Though I struggled, my feet wouldn’t go with the flow
And in fact seemed cemented. Demented thugs so
Rage-encurdled wished murdle of me. Voice: “What Ho!”

And I looked high above to a fire escape’s angle
And the Ho was my Witch with a Save-Rope a-dangle
Which I eagerly grabbed, and she yanked, to untangle
My peril. “Sweet Cheryl! So Feral! –New Fangle??”

We made our escape up the wrought-iron stairs
Past the WHY, MOMMY, WHY? and half-eaten eclairs
And her gold-tipped left canine, brand new, drew my swears
But she blissed me with kisses I’d missed wellawares.

We floated a boat-loan and left our career
As a couple of spies out of Cape Have No Fear
And we’re Cheryl and Sally, and Mai Tais and beer
Are this Sally’s Salvation–with Witch. You were Here!!