Two Thousand

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 error
surely they did not dress handsome for visitors
even if they said they did it only once a year.

Through a twisted path we were led
past halls set waiting banquet
at these we did not tarry long
until we arrived at a hall for our sup.

Potato salad stood by deviled egg
fried chicken next to candy ham.
Strangely our hosts paid more attention
to us than the spread made for them.

I separated from the group
did not eat any of the offered food
suspecting that I would sleep
too soon after eating the cole slaw.

Out the back door I escaped
down alleys until I reached the woods
through the rows of planted trees
I made my way to far safety.

The day started out simple enough
I did not realize in the end
I'd ride a cow to not be a meal
but that's a poem for another time.

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160417.

I had a dream about being invited to a dinner celebration in a town I had never seen before.  By the end the dream I was riding a cow across a field in order to escape from a probable massacre.  Does this sound familiar?  The cow part aside, it is very roughly the plot to “Two Thousand Maniacs!”.  A latter dream that night had a strange twist.  The main host for the dinner called and said he was upset that I left early.  I told him that I had freaked out and left out of fear.  I don't know if he accepted my apology, but I would have done it again.