Lawrence Hall
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Dispatches for the Colonial Office

               The Strange Adventure of Tarzan, the Epsteinian Files,
                                  and The Burn-Bags of Opar

I am not at liberty to lay before the inquiring minds of an objective public the manner in which the curious document and chilling testimony below came into my possession except that this was through the offices of a mysterious midnight visitor on business from Porlock with a wooden leg and an ivory eye of curious and antique design – or was that an ivory leg and a wooden eye? – and I must assure the reader that it was the visitor from Porlock who made do with a tapping ivory eye and a sightless wooden leg or sightless eye and tapping artificial leg, not the pleasant village of Porlock, because English villages are possessed of streets and lanes, not eyes and legs, on a stormy night at the time of the equinoctial gales when ships put to sea knowing that they (the crews, not the ships) must place their lives into the hands of our merciful and loving God who knoweth all things and disposeth all things and so now pray take a seat and light your pipe while I set my spectacles aright and read to you this strange narrative entrusted to my discretion and, like, stuff:

             The Strange Adventure of Tarzan, The Epsteinian Files,
                                   and The Burn-Bags of Opar

In search of The Lost Epsteinian Files
Tarzan slipped into a city ruinous and far
And in a secret tunnel that ran for miles
Stumbled onto The Burn-Bags of Opar

Queen Kristi of Opar, long in love with Tarzan
Sacrificed to her gods a dog and a goat
Then in an armored golf cart chased him as far as she can
(Okay, then, you try to rhyme “Tarzan”)
To the edge of the Alligator Alcatraz moat

Tarzan, exhausted, thought he was a doomer
Kristi was sharpening her sacrificial knife
                   (or loading her thirty-thirty; the records are unclear)
But she was death-whispered by Laura Loomer
Thus saving the burn-bags and our hero’s life

And The Epsteinian Files?  The mystery no longer abodes -
The scripts for Gilligan’s Island, the lost episodes

It’s astonishing how you knock me off my feet
Enrapture spoken, sentiments we savor as we greet
A relishing secret catered for me, my needs, as we mental feast
It’s getting harder and harder to breathe
Echoes turning, twisting, as they blissfully weave
I wish I could take a journey through your mind
Dine on the emotions you refuse to hide
Cautionary pause, where are you, do you no longer reside

Tempting fate of awakening emotions dancing inside my head
Fools rush in where Angels fear to tread
Dreams of roses, chocolates, wine, a silk covered bed
Beautiful images of a love to be shared
Where feelings could suddenly vanish into thin air
No safety net, no sure bet, hotter than July, to have let
Nurses cannot heal thyself

I need a quick cure from sipping the tale of Sleeping Beauty’s lover’s cup
SOS smoke signals has been sent up
Rescue me Destiny, Fate knows I cannot swim
Horde of feelings have quickly flooded in
Melody of the heart sounds sweeter than the violin
No shore, no dry land
State of mind standing upon quicksand

Tarzan swing me from your vine, refuge needed in this moment in time
I need an escape from this deep ocean of carnal designs
Mind management, intoxicating as sweet wine, softly trickling from off a grape vine
You’ll be the one who brings the pain
Bring the umbrella in the pouring rain

You’ll be the one who makes me cry
Bring me the tissue to dry my eyes
You’ll be the one my heart can’t deny
Sending my body beyond pleasure while entwined in the sky

Whispers in time are arresting, strong
Tarzan embrace me, cocoon me with an escape song
As I tightly hold onto your body as we swing in ecstasy all night long

I heard Tarzan
Swinging through the jungle
Calling the wild ones,
The fringe dwellers,
With, Ungowa!
They answered,
Dragging their knuckles
Along the I-94,
Then stampeding to crown,
Their *King of Apes.