Talking of the avalanche will surely bring it down
Like a cloak of night descending over winter’s glittering gown,
And around the mountain crevices we see the spectres whirl
Trying to break the embrace of the Oyster and the Pearl.
Out there in the storm where the cracking thunder peals,
The flashlight finds the darkness in the doorway and reveals
A half-frozen hourglass that once has been a girl;
A casual acquaintance of the Oyster and the Pearl…
When the history committee meets to draft its treasury
Of fables upon which we all have chosen to agree,
Anaesthetised by order of the platitudes they hurl,
They’ll mean absolutely nothing to the Oyster and the Pearl.
The joker will be angry in the debris of the pack;
The scientist and his wildcard will be shuffled to the back.
They’ll reduce his double helix to a sagging crinkled curl.
Nobody gets the picture but the Oyster and the Pearl…
And who is being compromised in every kind of way?
Whose noble reputation has all but drained away?
And who has been deserted for another working girl —
The innocent, the guilty, or the Oyster and the Pearl?
Stood by their Bugatti on the blistered, burning feet,
They are shoeless in the desert, they’re drowning in the heat;
And a Campari parasol begins to unfurl.
It never throws a shadow on the Oyster and the Pearl…