On the Road (Unpub)

As I was driving toward St. Ives,
I pass’d a guy with seven wives.
(Imagine what a Hausfrau drives.)
Each “better half” held seven hives...

     each subdivided, using knives.

Each bride had sliced ‘em into fives,
the bees sent fleeing for their lives,
each executing seven dives... 

     (if spook’d, an insect truly strives:

it’s how each at-risk hive survives --
in last analysis, it thrives)
each dive a writhe of seven jives...

     set free, each, from confining gyves.

Gyves, jives, dives, lives,
fives, knives, hives, drives –
plus just one guy -- though seven wives.

So: how few travel’d to St. Ives…?