Thursday, September 10, 1998

Paradise Break
by Maureen Alley ([email protected])

The market, the market, we're in a maze
So we ran to Paradise for seven days
No phones, no pagers, no connection at all
It was beautiful, bare and we had a ball
At dinner each evening the talk was of sun,
Mixed drinks, no tan lines and fun
Days passed non-swiftly -- we barely recall
What city we live in -- do we work at all?
A wonderful doldrum of beach and hot tubs
Hammocks, music, love and no bugs
On day six at evening a horrible sound:
A newspaper rustle and mutterings abound
The market, the market was all that we heard
As we fled the scene and a group most disturbed
The market, the market the echo was there
But we swam out to sea and didn't dare
Lose the last day in Paradise to some poor slob's slip
So we swam and sunned and forgot the Drip.
The market, the market will maintain as of old
So go visit Paradise, put everything on hold
Or the reason for my fribble will remain unsold.
Ah, Paradise my soul has restored.

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