Never Break That West Wind

The sky went unrecognized all that morning
And through the afternoon
It was not until evening, the glorious gloaming
That began to slip in under the door,
And to gradually fill the room,
Cyclopean stars opening their eyes
One by one took their places on the loveseat
But I would not open my eyes
I would not look upon that sky
It's intrusion was a profanity to me
And so I let out a long, pleading, yet luxuriant fart
Like the wandering violin line that opens Beethoven's Op. 131,
Solid and lasting, like the art in museums,
And the stars sat politely, pretending not to hear it.