hot, all about
the cedars,
good I have
my fan
rubberband-
ed ’round
my spine-
less book,
& a ‘brella
just in case
pigs fly —
they usually
do, & wonder
why, cannot
he see thru it
Poetry
hot, all about
the cedars,
good I have
my fan
rubberband-
ed ’round
my spine-
less book,
& a ‘brella
just in case
pigs fly —
they usually
do, & wonder
why, cannot
he see thru it