“Let’s go up!”, she had said.
“It’s good for your head.”
“It will help bring you closer to God.”
The ride up was fine,
It took almost no time.
Then she said, “We get to climb down.”
As she started ahead,
I had a feeling of dread.
I followed her down the way.
On the eighth step, I tripped.
I supposed I just slipped.
I fell forward, and landed head first.
I’ve been stuck in this tower,
For well over an hour.
Nobody’s coming to help.
I’ve screamed and prayed,
Tourists behind seem dismayed,
And the line is growing in length.
The tower’s elite
Grabbed my hands and my feet,
They pulled with all of their might.
No matter how hard they tried,
I’m still stuck inside.
They finally went off to lunch.
So, I’m stuck here on my own,
Wedged into cold stone.
I wonder if I will ever be free.
I’ve been so long stuck,
I learned French and German for “fuck”,
But that hasn’t helped me get down.
I’m pretty sure Gaudi
Did not have an “outie”.
This tower would not be so thin.
He drank wine in liters,
He measured towers in meters,
But my inches just won’t fit at all.
From Paris to Plano,
People are mailing in Drano.
At least the public is trying to help.
I awoke with a scream,
It was all just a bad dream.
I will plan our vacations alone.
Every night when I pray,
I give thanks for the day.
I ask for forgiveness of sin.
Then, I say “For twenty-four hours”,
“Lord, protect me from towers.”
Then, I can go off to sleep.