The Lady of Shallots

[Achebe]

they'd rather fart than say hello,
and
it seems I'm caught Twain beans and liver,

and the denoument

and fuck the damn shallots,
I'll buy some down the block!
 
 
  
with the author's permission (assumed), throwing in a variation on the shallot theme:
Resembling a circus tent, onwards, to:

Grim-faced reaper, sour and surly,
bearded like last season's barley,
who with her grande voix may parley,
in the produce wing this early?

      her nose is dripping snot.