How to Slake an Ogre's Thirst

“Until nothing can slake my thirst / But to drink the entire sea.”
Kenneth Rexroth, Marichiko

I had some wisdom in the ogre's eyes before I forgot he'd come to eat me.
I intend to buy me a cottage out in the sticks for my sunset years, I
________________________________________________said.
Styx good, but stupid, he said, no plans, for no sunset, eat you before.
And what to drink with it? I asked; I'll be chewy, hoary meat––chewy.

Easy as pie for a gnawer, he said. But right, where the bottle?
I'll fetch water, I said, hoping that he would let me out.
You stay here, he said, have hands, will squeeze.
It might come in handy, I thought, to be rid of a future.

Relieved from any further worries, I thus leaned back and
Squinted trying to see what I could get for my money right now.
I still couldn't imagine anything else but
That cute cute little country house.

You will once join me out there, I said, you'll be my guest then.
Eat you up on the spot, just as good, he said.
There will be babbling brook quite nearby, I said, for the wash down.
Oh, I think I am cunning in bringing an ogre around.

Brook, he said, gulp in one swig. Brook, he said, whizz in one go.
Ogre like snails and like slugs, he said. Crusty house, but who care?
It'll stand on some headland, I said, above an ocean to swallow.
Say, the guy dragooned me into envisioning an ever grander
_________________________________________tomorrow...

Ocean ain't worth the salt, he said, and reached out and grabbed me.

October 25, 2008