The Lion Returns

The lion burst through my window and stood flatfooted in the shattered glass. He said I'm here to eat Alan Ginsberg, this was his pad in times long past. I said the cat checked out but he left this couch and a box of failed poems. That'll work said the lion and he lit a joint and made himself at home.

It doesn't matter that he's dead said the lion, I've still got to pay my debt. He begged me to eat him back in '58, but I told him baby, not yet. He cursed me into existence, "The Lion is real" he screamed. If he hadn't believed so earnestly I'd only be a dream.

Only I know what's real or not, said the lion taking a puff. And I'm as real as real can be and the rest is real enough. And I think it's only just, I think it's only fair, that I bring Alan Ginsberg back to life and eat him fair and square.

Provisioned with a double espresso and some Acapulco gold, the Lion opened his book of spells from beatnik days long ago. He chanted outy-vouty ivey-jivey ala rooney, and Ginsberg appeared in a twinkling, dancing ecstatic in a billowing white robe, his finger cymbals tinkling.

I'm here to eat you said the lion, I have conjured you back from the void. Ginsberg said it's about time you moth-eaten beast and can I say I'm a little annoyed? I waited and waited for your return to complete your half of the deal. It wasn't easy to admit to everyone that the lion isn't real.

But only I know what's real or not, said the lion, growling gruff. And I'm as real as real can be and the rest is real enough. I'm here to eat you said the lion that's the promise I'm going to keep. So curl up your legs tuck in your head I'll swallow you like a sheep.

Can I get high before I get eaten? said Ginsberg and the lion said sure. But I lost my last joint somewhere in this couch or maybe it's stuck in my fur. Ginsberg said I hear pot is legal now and the lion said far out! And off they strolled to the cannabis store leaving me in a sea of doubt.

Hey wait just a minute I shouted, are you real or just phantom schmucks? You got my mind all messed around, my brain is turning to muck. I'll come back tomorrow and straighten you out, said the lion in a huff. 'Cause I'm as real as real can be and the rest is real enough.

I shouldn't have trusted that lion, he never did come back. Sure, he came back for Ginsberg, he's famous, but I'm just an unknown hack. But I found the lion's lost joint under a cushion and I got nice and stoned. I put on a Charlie Parker record, and read Ginsberg's box of failed poems.

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