Villa Null
“Those damn realtors would even try to sell you a Port-A-Potty. ‘Look, vaulted ceilings!'” Comedian, 20th Century
The car hit potholes here and there but rolled
Relentlessly beyond the edge of town
And let the landscape crinkle and unfold.
The hacienda in the distance, sold
For “pennies on the dollar,” housed a clown.
Toward that villa our conveyance rolled.
The landscape, now uncrinkled, free of fold,
Made hills on which the villa was one crown.
Since it was Sunday noon, the church bell tolled.
We topped the hill and braked. The clown unrolled
A once-red carpet, mostly gray and brown.
“Come in and welcome. You’ll be fed and skålled.”
The meal was wretched, bread unfree of mold;
The wine came from a box of no renown.
“And now to business. Have you brought the gold?”
“I have a bagful,” said my wife, “But hold
The phone. You have insulted us. I frown.
We came to buy this place, and you make bold
To act as if the deal is done. You’re cold
“Of blood and buff of oon. Annulled
We make of sketchy dealings such as this.
Reality unravels, as does bliss.
“So take your Villa Null, your spider’s kiss
And wrap it in your smile. We’re out of here.”
The clown was unperturbed. “It’s hit or miss
In this profession. How about some beer?”
One with Clay, Image and Text 