The feast rejects the festive play
And starts to take the food away.
The cinders whimper—burning out.
The diners finish off the stout,
And dance amidst the cups and plates.
And now they drink the wine to sate
That thirst for water, sun and dirt.
The drunkest ones proceed to squirt
A purple blast on chins and chests;
And even tongues! And once they've blessed
Themselves, they sleep on tablecloths
And soak themselves in chicken broth.
The chairs are pawned to pay the tab,
The snoring guests asleep on slabs
Are robbed. The host is shutting down
The hall for good and leaving town
To party with another scene,
With folks who thank the host—and clean!
“The annual Gulf of Mexico "dead zone" – a low-oxygen region of seawater that appears each spring and summer and either snuffs marine life or sends it fleeing – is one of the largest on record this year. ”
– Pete Spotts, Christian Science Monitor, August 2, 2010
http://www.csmonitor.com/Environment/2010/0802/Massive-dead-zone-in-the-Gulf-but-not-because-of-the-oil-spill
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