And I swear I don't
usually go
in for that kind of thing!—but while
driving along
at the
height of this particularly
lonely
and slow-
going snow-
crusted
storm warning morning—
at the sight of one certain
and highly
suggestive—vulgar
and flagrantly
graphic old billboard—I could feel, somewhat
specifically, my hitherto
frozen-
stiff upper
lip start to quake,
and
quickly—a moistening
and lifting
in my gummy thick soft-
palate—quivering
in a perfect
and uncontrollably-
tight choreographic tandem
with my poor pent-up soul,
which—
at once began leaping
and straining,
frothing-
mad at its pathetic
little tether—choking
and gasping
and craving to fly fast
after the steamy
and overly
idolized sight—of those
totally stacked-
looking—blueberry pancakes.
