Guyute was the ugly pig. Who walked on me and danced a jig. That he had learned when he was six. Then stopped and did some other tricks. . Like pulling weapons from his coat.
Aboard a craft bereft of oar, I rowed upstream to find Lenore. Abducted by a bandit or a king from some forgotten war. And mindful of his larval craze, the rhino tropic micro-gaze.