On The Wax Museum
In a mysterious wax museum, where,
Those things that could not be permitted, were,
Each child embraced their individual Mark Twain,
Including the torso, for free.
The museum reincarnates despairing Chinese immigrants,
Tinctures, soaps, and Elvis Presley.
His head cloaked in a box somewhere,
Brando's still in storage.
I'll introduce a young Sophia Loren.
She is slightly translucent.
The stars attended to the flesh,
So that she can walk within inches of Solitude.
In the frozen fortress of the historic Alamo,
An uncanny resemblance to Jesus,
A contraption built completely from a candle,
Melts under the unforgiving, Mexican sun.
His head cracks away.
A most incredible likeness of Igor.
The most infamous of characters from medieval torture.
Kills people, encasing them into the wax.
Spies on a vat of wax figures.
Now, please remain motionless as the most celebrated wax is applied.
