Tuesday, July 29, 2014

DAYDREAM

To—all you old
fat July 
hordes of sun-greasy

flies that keep
slowbuzzing loop-
de-loop 

wakes through my gangway—scram!

And make
way!—
because 

here come the furious wet
jaws of your 
worst nightmare—

a fed-
up 
and incredulous 

deadeye dachshund-beagle—

who's not 
nearly as 
amused—as her 

handler
might be
with how—it could ever even

possibly be! that you're all
at once—
both so 

pathetically lazy—
and so

very
very delirious?

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