Dear Dona Infanta Maria Francisca,
May your eminence reign.
I write to you only because I can, knowing full well you couldn't care.
More or less it matters nothing to you or yours, pretenders to the throne.
Defunct like a lousy punk rock band whose singer leaves when his interests wane.
I was once a drummer in said band but took up the pen to no avail.
Maybe I write to you now, for this one reason, I cannot fail better.
Despite Samuel Beckett and his most famous quote, I am a nobody.
In fact, let's not pretend I'm writing a letter to you, I wouldn't dare.
Maybe if you saw this, you may laugh and wonder, why my hat is a cone.
Maybe I am a dunce, sitting on a high stool, over in the corner.
Even an idiot, or a fool may address your royal highness and fail.
Really, I have reasons, either sound or unsound, that you read this letter.
Doubt, like my own mother, my sense of sanity, with whom you may agree.
In fact, my mom was born in Goa, a former Portuguese colony.
Maybe if I were sane, I would have no reason to write, but as you see,
Sight being the preferred sense for a similie, as eyes are no foreigner
Under the omniscience of God and His angels, to all this boloney.
Maybe you won't respond to this open letter, you may laugh, believe me.
No comments:
Post a Comment