Aluminum Author, Part Who Knows
I am having a Week and need distraction, so here we go again. For those who weren't around last round (it's been a while), it is just like Iron Author, except I reserve the right to flake
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this isn't what they meant!
Long tons of dark grey stone hauled up from York
by airship and at great expense
It looks impressive, granted,
but it makes no sense!
Each gothic crenellation holds an archer, bored,
on guard for birdshit, raindrops, and an empty sky
While resentful masses, teaming
in the shadow of your cellar, evade every eye.
To be sure it makes a spectacle of scientific prowess
that must make a dulled heart care
But you must realize, uncle, what they're saying in the Commons
is that you are not all there!
The walls are clammy and the air is thin
The mail is always late, and guests are few
and when they come, are short of conversation,
and always looking nervously at you.
Only the cats, stropping against my cold bare ankles,
imperiously demanding cream for tea,
remain unmoved by your collosal Folly
Sure wherever they are is inherently
where they should be. But even they --
on Monday I caught Molly
stalking an eaglet, twitching the tip of her tail.
I'm warning you, the day I lose a moggy,
is the day we put this eyesore up for sale.
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