Please don't invite me to the picnic
the one with the smiling faces and long knives
tables piled high high with festive fare
my friends and I served as main course.

The day started out simple enough
stranded in the country with broken ride
with locals eager for some company
at annual celebration of comradery.

So much time had been spent
making the town ready for the festival
a gala of decadence by simple people
a sign of their observance of greater purpose.

Sabbath or funeral clothes were worn
the former we assumed to our...