Spotted in the lost and found today:
two purple camisoles
a jock strap signed by Darryl Strawberry
a liter of Polish carrot juice
club tickets to the 1979 World Series
a monkey turban (most likely from the organ grinder)
a wool scarf, brown
Stephen Hawking’s eyelash
and a twelve gallon hat.
Note: The twelve gallon hat may simply be a reflection of shoddy workmanship, though I did not detect a difference in size from the other ten gallon hats I’ve seen in this restaurant.
Cool Charlie Mace
never had a reason to race
‘cept that time four years ago.
He took to the streets
with grassroots campaigns
and promises of alternative fuels.
But then when he faltered,
he lost his young fans
to the dragstrip
of irreconcilable agony.
It wasn’t even his idea
to run in the first place.
Better
it happened to the mailman
than your grandmother,
right?
Surely
we all have bones to pick
with the crumbling infrastructure,
surely.
For one,
these lasagna noodles are brittle
and flavorless [even when cooked],
sister.
Leftovers
no longer hold the public’s attention
or appetite. Big business has gone
too far.
Gnaw
on a cardboard box–healthy, fibrous,
nothing carcinogenic [that we know of]
there.
This book
is all about ponies
and their symbiotic relationship
with the microscopic organisms
in charge of cleaning their insides.
At times truly terrifying, this text
beckons the reader to reconsider
steadfast beliefs held since childhood,
consistently insulting their intelligence
from cover to cover.
It’s been a New York Times Bestseller
for seventeen weeks now.
All those chain reactions
busting through the pipes
belittle stinky cheese scraps
and human growth hormone.
Tearing rich philosophy in two
while unicycling underwater
leaves much to be desired
for one’s lungs and psyche.
Lunge through the book covers
and try to absorb it this time,
you pompous snake charmer
with more wit than cantaloupe rind.
Tunnel to the core,
get halfway there
and look around.
You’re not burnt
crisp, rather
suspended
in disbelief
while you
reach around
for a cigarette
and a match.
Then you realize
smoking is bad
for you.
Seventy dollars
is all it takes
to lose your erection
for the time being–
I predict a surge
of business (monkey
or otherwise) for
this fledgling
startup.
Forget the
popping of
the pills,
patches
are
the future.
Sick and tired
of being attracted
to somebody
when you really
just wish you could
get to bed already?
Well, fear no more!
Dr. Franco’s
Deboner Patches
will do the trick
every time.
WHARVED 