TRUE GOO

O quesadee’
I sing to thee
This song of yummy squishy chee’.

All melty
In a tortee’
So sticky deelish, who wouldn’t agree?

For you, easily
I’d surrender a fee
Of a hundy … two hundy … hund’infinity!

But I’ll also concee’,
Quesadee, my swee’
Even sweeter you’d be

For just a penny
Or better yet
Completely for free!

 

MIGHTIER, INK

When an old forgotten pen 

in a pocket is discovered

A fresh opportunity 

has been uncovered,

To unlock and empty 

the full idea cage

Onto an endlessly 

possible page,

To draw a new door 

Where before none had been,

Such a find is more precious than 

Finding a ten.

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I L’OEUF NEW YORK

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They Write Stories About This Time of Year: Gift of the Chiefs

ARM CONFLICT

A new snow-ski Vest
I got from my mom
I’ve heard nice things about it
Except from my arms.

“We just bet,” they both say,
“That thing is the best,
If you’re a belly,
A back or a chest,

“Sealed in from the chill
Inside puffy armor,
Not two nude kazoos in
Full vibrato arm-brrrr.

“While you think it’s real smart
a ‘lightweight sleeveless jacket,’
we brothers-in-arms say:
Vests are a racket!”

“I guess,” said the Vest,
“About as much as gloves,
And long johns, wool socks and
Those things ears call ‘Muffs.’

“Pipe down out there, Arms,
Save your noise for the beach.
The value of vests
Seems well past your reach.”

When my snow-ski vest’s on now,
My Arms roll their eyes,
The chips on their shoulders
Big and undisguised.

All they talk about’s summer
And how it’s the best.
Wonder how they’ll like
My new water-ski vest.