That 70’s rock group, Blue Oyster Cult,
set to play at Orson Powers Auditorium,
and Itchy Skin, super fan, ardent Oyster
devotee, woebegone and oozing glum
because he could not get a ticket
no matter how much he begged,
cajoled and whined, noticed
in his mailbox just the other
day a nine by six manilla
envelope addressed to
Itchy (and not resident),
with no return address
whatsoever.
Yet there in the upper
left hand corner, instead,
were bold, red music symbols.
Itchy grimaced, squinted, furrowed
his brow and thrummed a muted hmm.
He then walked to the kitchen, envelope
in hand, plucked a steak knife from the
drawer, and with surgical precision
lanced open the envelope, that
cutting sound a zip-buzz like
a hornet angered to flight.
Pulling out the contents
smartly, Itchy smiled
broadly—he found
two tickets to a Blue Oyster
Cult show.
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