Farm Implements and Rutabagas in a Landscape

The first of the undecoded messages read: "Popeye sits

   in thunder,

Unthought of. From that shoebox of an apartment,

From livid curtain's hue, a tangram emerges: a country."

Meanwhile the Sea Hag was relaxing on a green couch: "How

   pleasant

To spend one's vacation en la casa de Popeye," she

   scratched

Her cleft chin's solitary hair. She remembered spinach

And was going to ask Wimpy if he had bought any spinach.

"M'love," he intercepted, "the plains are decked out

   in thunder

Today, and it shall be as you wish." He scratched

The part of his head under his hat. The apartment

Seemed to grow smaller. "But what if no pleasant

Inspiration plunge us now to the stars? For this is my

   country."

Suddenly they remembered how it was cheaper in the country.

Wimpy was thoughtfully cutting open a number 2 can of spinach

When the door opened and Swee'pea crept in. "How pleasant!"

But Swee'pea looked morose. A note was pinned to his bib.

   "Thunder

And tears are unavailing," it read. "Henceforth shall

   Popeye's apartment

Be but remembered space, toxic or salubrious, whole or

   scratched."

Olive came hurtling through the window; its geraniums scratched

Her long thigh. "I have news!" she gasped. "Popeye, forced as

   you know to flee the country

One musty gusty evening, by the schemes of his wizened,

   duplicate father, jealous of the apartment

And all that it contains, myself and spinach

In particular, heaves bolts of loving thunder

At his own astonished becoming, rupturing the pleasant

Arpeggio of our years. No more shall pleasant

Rays of the sun refresh your sense of growing old, nor the

   scratched

Tree-trunks and mossy foliage, only immaculate darkness and

   thunder."

She grabbed Swee'pea. "I'm taking the brat to the country."

"But you can't do that--he hasn't even finished his spinach,"

Urged the Sea Hag, looking fearfully around at the apartment.

But Olive was already out of earshot. Now the apartment

Succumbed to a strange new hush. "Actually it's quite pleasant

Here," thought the Sea Hag. "If this is all we need fear from

   spinach

Then I don't mind so much. Perhaps we could invite Alice the Goon

   over"--she scratched

One dug pensively--"but Wimpy is such a country

Bumpkin, always burping like that." Minute at first, the thunder

Soon filled the apartment. It was domestic thunder,

The color of spinach. Popeye chuckled and scratched

His balls: it sure was pleasant to spend a day in the country.