One hot September afternoon Plastic Boy and his mother
and the genderless sibling found themselves traversing
a boundless plain of fresh dill.
After spending hours in the seemingly endless fragrant
meadow-upon-meadow, they settled down for the night
in a lean-to. Plastic boy considered a career in poetry.
The next morning, they accepted a ride from a skeleton
on a bicycle. All the blood rushed to their heads when
he carried them upside down. Silly skeleton!
The skeleton dropped them off in front of a liquor
"Look Mom!" Shouted the Plastic Boy.
"Chateau Los Boldos on sale for only $3.200!"
The mother didn't drink.
They trudged on and on, with no particular destination
By late afternoon, they found themselves in Boston
at Fenway Park.
"Imagine that!" Said Plastic Boy.
But they didn't have to imagine it, because there they
were, smack-dab in the middle of Fenway Park, complete
with paper spectators and miniscule paper Red Sox.
"I hope I catch a home-run ball!" said Plastic Boy.
But his mother just yanked on his plastic arm
and away they went.
They passed a peaceful night in a twig nest
with a rose petal blanket.
The little plastic genderless sibling was strangely silent.
In the morning, they were forced to cross a small stream
made up entirely of tiny forks, knives and spoons.
Everything was blurry once again.
Maybe Plastic Boy needed glasses!
But everything suddenly came into focus
as the gentle meandering stream turned into
a ferocious roaring river --
Plastic Boy was scared silly and the fork tines
poked into the plastic platform upon which they travelled.
Yowza. Maybe they were going to perish.
Maybe this was their LAST DAY ON EARTH!
But it wasn't, because all the fierce water
turned to ice, which, though slippery,
they were able to cross.
On the other side they were met by that pesky onion.
"Oh grate!" Said the plastic mom, as they leapt up and
away from alliumial danger.
"Look Mom! Texas bluebonnets!" Plastic Boy said,
using altogether far too many exclamatory phrases.
Cookies cutters are frightening.
Bacon floss is not.
Weary and cranky, they ran past a ceramic hedgehog,
a wooden terrier and The Virgin Mary talking quietly
beside a pink wax fire.
The mom yanked at the arm of Plastic Boy,
and again, the genderless sibling made not a peep.
But in the end, the mother relented, and they turned
around to confer with the hedgehog, the terrier
and The Virgin.
The pink wax fire was warm.
The Virgin was chaste.
The hedgehog was born in a Red Rose Tea box.
The terrier barked and barked.
Life was good.