Ars Poetica Francis Judilla

Francis Judilla

So like Nancy was saying somethin’ about Cthulhu and circles over by 6th and Vista— her new place had the bad vibes. Me being I, I was all “Nah!” But she wasn’t having it. So like Nancy brought the crew— Me and Nancy and Dave and Sarah, and we were all “Wassup spectre!” but nothing happened so we dug our graves. Mine was pink by the stairs, Sarah and Nancy arguing for the kitchen. Then Sarah said “Yo, we really gonna do this?” And ol’ Dave got cold feet. “This ain’t for me,” and he left. The bad vibes got badder. Then an apple tree: “Timber!” the apples screamed. “Not again,” Nancy said. O, what a massacre: the delicious no longer golden. Nancy stepped out of the grave and dropped an iceberg. What a gal! Sarah whispered, “Where do we go from here?” The spectre rearranged the alphabet soup: Isn’t that the point?