My quill reins in what seems a needless code.
I clasp left hand to my rib, for I feel
quite potent acids become my sad load,
hint of run through my kazoo. A jade seal
on my moody face shakes up my new mate,
makes her hie like a hare, deep fear of harm
sending arms and legs swarming like some great
flustered fowl too heavy for flight. I'm charmed
by her oval rear end, feel her ire since
she knows it. She threatens even to call
me "ex" after only a week; shakes tense
fist at my green skin. I lob a kiss, stall
her with a fractured tale: how I've now learned
to avoid units where ants all eat ferns.
Roger Armbrust
March 13, 2007
