The Tangerine Plankton
was erasing the awful blurb of that smashing bacon grease
no problems erupted, but when there was an urge
to peel the cherry wood from the nibbles of fig newtons
encrusting the podium
it passed limits enforced by grapes
extending durations
using a great amount of super nostrils
for the final examination
breathing a sigh of toxic fumes
smelling like oil from a heat lamp
with green lard
stenchy breakfast plans
designed to make us all heavy
and lubricated in dry patches
something happened to the trunks
they appeared to cower
in front of the shiny periscope
of saturday's pickled bush
nevertheless the rumors injected orange juice
into the pan of noodles
with duck gauze
healing our elbows with garlic dip
that ballooned into a desktop
that trashed all personal valuables
in exchange for green, dilapidated old farts
that love to hug wheel of fortune
and pander to jerry springer's cue card
i feel flummoxed!
i bluntly scooped the moist clump
and offered it to the pearly white tooth decay
promising the mannequins a ray of relief
only in manufactured pudding duck droppings
on a slowly fading sensation
of groovy vinyl fever blisters
the basket filled slowly but surely
with the lovely fringe of tinge
in the binge coating
of the port-o-let
with sanitary figurines declaring a holy war
and cheese sections at barry manilow's favorite bungalow
with toast made of carpet
and prophecies that only the snuggle bear could wash clean
it seemed that soon our necks would lengthen
and produce cellophane candy canes
and determine the sharpness of the spikes
that gradually weaken the urge
to inflict terminal hickies
that we all know piss off the cia
...that said...
there be only so much cola in the paint can
only so much air in the bleach
only so much spandex in the unclad set
of proof 1932 disco memorabilia
everything becomes clearer when viewed through tissue
and finally we can sit confident
that our every move
must be surrendered to the unlikely chance
that our intentions be used for
hotel walls