Who is this child? He is a colander-headed boy.
He came into this world naked, but naked he did not stay. No, soon he was garbed in the raiment of his people, Those of Colanderness.
Through the rain and snow they saunter, heads semi-protected from the elements but with plenty of holes, the better to experience the primal nature of nature itself.
Through the lightning they also walk, because Those of Colanderness know not the fear of electrocution so often experienced by lesser beings.
Those who wear colanders have never read the Harry Potter books. They do not play basketball, nor do they golf. They will look at you with bemusement, if not bewilderment, if you mention the words “par” and “tee” in their presence.
“Birdie” is another matter, because although they do not know its meaning with regard to golf, those who wear colanders are known for their love of birds. They are at one with the avian world, perhaps because in an alternate universe, birds and colanders fly through the skies in peace and harmony, wishing no ill will to any animate or inanimate being.
Those who wear colanders worship the gods of pasta and tin. They do not wear suspenders. They dip their artichokes in Hellmann’s mayonnaise, and they can be found in the early mornings sitting on porch swings, praying that the brokenhearted of the world will know themselves beloved.