Elegy For A Pratt Fall

I felt a funeral in Boris Karloff
and monsters to and fro
kept Frankensteining, arms outstretched,
pulling Jimi Hendrick's Afro,

everyone was running scared,
hearts beating like Ogallala drums,
Abott and Costello in black and white,
teeth chattering, bleeding gums,

then I heard Little Red Riding Hood
lift a basket, Frankenstein lift a box,
his big black boots were made for walking,
the village doors were sporting locks

and suddenly from the weight
of all these and sundry folk
the poem collapsed in a laugh
and Frankenstein cried as he spoke.