Murder at the Opera

The wait before the prestigious op'ra
Hath been a long one, students in my sight
I sayeth to my friend who hath been there
“This is fucked,” meaning of the piano
He blinked, blind to what I would to have said.
I pointed, then thither came a preacher
Who, although small in stature, read verses
With such charisma as was his nature.
I took his book and splashed water on it.
Then I entered the classroom full of kids,
Sat myself down in view for a card game,
Tripped out, then the opera had begun.

We all formed a line to enter therein
My silly friend was at the wrong entrance
Pretty standard opera except that
The preacher had a seat right next to me
And eyed me for the duration of it
I finally told him to fucking stop
The world stopped when the conductor yelled