Wednesday, January 28, 1998


The sun, the breeze,
The flowers, the trees;
I love such things,
And the bird sings.
Outside, among the world;
Stones into the water I have hurled.
Picnics, games, and poetry
Not quite the Grand Ol’ Op’ry.
Bugs, and flies
(Of the butter varieties),
The sound of music over the hills.
Here are present no worries, no fears, and no pills.
The air so cool, the air so still;
And something’s not just right, oh hell!
I open my eyes
And to my surprise,
A parking lot, with, you know,
Cars, trucks, vans, and, oh!
Horses, too! They stamp and they paw.
I ask aloud: "against the law?"
I think of her, and she of me.
An excellent pair are we.
She sits above;
It is she that I love.
Oh no! I’m almost out of lead,
Oh dre...

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