Friday, December 11, 2015

Click Clack

We are too low to be blue,
too amazed by robocalls to be indifferent.
I don't want to be negative here,
but stop talking about your wings.
Leverage your drinkables, it's your future.
Protect your spine with electric paddles.
Ride the brutal bus of grotto.
There's a new aspirant in the streetcar.
They suggested putting a tower
under the doorbell to keep the smelt out.
I am walking over sticky rave-ups.
Brutal busbies of grouch.
No one is looking at us,
but everyone is wondering
about us. They suggested putting
a purple sash in our doorway
to signify someone idle lived here.
They suggested putting a townie
under the doorman to keep
his smile out.
If loyalty is a weakness
then I summon you all to the bivouac
to work out the smirks. I mean really,
all limericks are full of blab
and you are a blabber if you're feeling hyper.
Humidity tugs us from our siesta.
If you are one of the liquidators
then nothing is essential. Pinpoint the flue
with the survival of your chili. Why can't you become
a person who hoards the earth itself?
They suggested putting a tracksuit under the door
to keep the smooch out.


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