Wednesday, January 04, 2006

An Ode to January 4th

Dang quesedillas
Burnt my wrist again.
Buick is defiled
With Jason's love for Beyonce
A secret not well kept.
The dick, the dick,
O that crazy whale,
That pasty Moby Dick,
Has ensnared me once again
Where I shall remain trapped
For weeks, at least,
Oh woe my watery eyes.
Sweet leftover potatoes
Leftover sweet potatoes
Sweet, sweet potatoes
I can stand you no longer
Be good in compost heaven.
Alfred has met an untimely demise
Made untimelier by the case of wine
Beheaded and benosed
He uncorks no longer
He buttles no more.
Successfully convinced Jason
Using only a hand mirror, my deductive reasoning skills
And his own wardrobe against him
That he is neither a gangsta, nor a pimp, nor even a homie
And neither will he ever be
No matter how much Snoop he downloads.
A universal truth revealed
To break my tender heart
Into fetid, pulsing pieces:
Carrot cake, it seems,
Is one of life's finite things.

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