This piece of deep existentialist collage poetry was inspired by this week’s Unicorn Challenge photo prompt.

The bleak midwinter arrived in

the middle of winter

and it was bleak.

Not moor bleak;

more bleak than that.

The wind was keen,

not in that American neat way

nor like mustard,

but sharp

and bleak

because it was midwinter.

I watched it being bleak midwinter

until I saw her

through the glass darkly

of the doors of

the bus to nowhere

and I knew I had to

make her mine, make her mine, make her mine.

I leapt aboard and raced up the aisle,

skirting the vegan haggis eaters,

knocking over old men that looked like Keith Richards

and trampling on the children of the revolution

until I could see her

gazing out the window at Itchycoo Park.

Later, we performed Shakespeare in the park.

She wore a yellow cotton dress

foaming like a wave on the ground around her knees.

I wore a hot fever ironed strip-ed pair of pants

and followed her in the dance

as the park began melting in the dark,

with pea-green rain pouring down and

our passion flowed like pea soup in the sky.

We took a magic carpet ride

and travelled with birds

like tender babies in our hands and

looked down on old men

tossing cabers by the tussocks.

But then the conductor asked me for my ticket

and threw me off

on the Boulevard of Broken Dreams

just near Desolation Row

at Loch Step.

Again I watched it being bleak midwinter

but I don’t think God did.

This piece was written for the weekly photo prompt from the Unicorn Challenge.

Are you comfortable, Mr. Bean?

Yes, thank you.

Before we start, a little housekeeping. Can you please use the coaster provided for your water glass. The rings are difficult to wipe off.

Sorry, I’m a bit nervous.

That’s fine. You’ll remember next time.

Yes.

Then let’s begin. Why have you brought a blunderbuss, a hat and blue glasses with you today?

They’re evidence.

Of what?

My ebaylia.

Sorry, what condition is that?

It’s the term used for Ebay addicts. I read about it on the internet.

Ah, Dr. Google strikes again. So you have a compulsion to buy things on Ebay?

Useless things. That’s the problem.

Can you tell me why?

It’s embarrassing.

Alright, why don’t you tell that imaginary person in the empty chair, so you don’t have to look at me.

Who should I imagine?

Someone with whom you would share an intimate secret.

I don’t have anyone like that. Can it be my teddy?

If that helps.

Alright then. Teddy, I’m an ebayliac. I have this addiction to buying useless things on Ebay. I bought a hat, when I hate hats. I bought some blue glasses, when I already knew they didn’t work. And lastly, a blunderbuss thingy, when I hate guns. I tell people that I don’t know why but I do. They’re symbolic of my own uselessness and lack of worth.

Excellent, Mr. Bean. I’m glad we got to the bottom of your problem so quickly. You can pay the receptionist on the way out.