Monday, May 14, 2012


she hangs up the phone
as I throw the dog a bone,
but likely as not,
nobody is home.

now we know, the spooks
woke much too soon,
but we think 
it had something to do
with all the prune juice
and the moose 
that turned state evidence.

I said, next month is June.
she said, Yes, it usually follows May.
Yes, I said, but you know I'm not gay. 
well, she said, maybe some day.

well, I said, answer me this:
why is pee yellow?
oh, she said, you're such a fine fellow.
that's not pee, silly, that's jello. 

life has warn a hole in my shoes.
how are your shoes?
this is where we sing the blues.

"All are lunatics, but he who can analyze his delusion is called a philosopher."

Ambrose Bierce (1842-1914)

if it stinks, bury it.
it is as simple as that. 

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