the year of the mermaid

semi-sweet sugar plum fairy he drank her all up
there’s nothing to her holy grail but a thin paper cup
not nearly enough for his ladies thirst
he took a second look at the paper and the empty cup and yelled and cursed
used letters cluttered into a new whirled disorder
expatiating on the ills of the green land, the yellow land and their troubled border
this paper reads paltry in pink bad tidings never did print stout in black ink
his eyes locked on the headline and screamed in baffled horror
apparently expecting sundry stories in a bit of a differently chronicled color
bit by bit aleatory words were scrambling together racing each other to sort sense in his mind
his eyes locked on the deadline cast to confound
fissures cracked his frown protracting a smile in idiocy
the edification of illiteracy
affirming what greenlandians have been saying for years
the grass in iceland was always greener and one sunny day this will all end in tears