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If Wishing Made It So
I am the tallest sprinkler of parabolic flow. I keep a fist in each of my fingers. I can make a wolf with my hands and a lamp on a wall as big as Iowa. I selected from a catalog of days this sunny ha. I need only a thimble of plutonium to power my bark. I got to third base with the lake on our first date. Tongue and feeling her up and waves lapping at my pulled pork. I say go and you go and I say stay and you remain in the position of "I am a teapot" or whatever it is you do with your body in the deep sorrow of not being my body. I take a helicopter to work to rest my submarine. I am twenty-eight heads wired in parallel with double-pull double-throw switches. I aren't so required to with words know one from if it quacks like a tractor then plow. Every three seconds, workmen staple different paintings to my eyes of wonderful trees and tall girls on the horizon waving suckle-me breasts. All it takes to make it to the parade is the gumption to put one boot on one genital at a time. Each of us wakes equally with gunk in our eyes of silver mostly. You can be anything I want if I try you hard enough. What a life. Did I tell you my middle name is the same as the president's first name? Therefore the center of, the creamy goodness of, some spleen of me or intestine is president. I hold these truths to be self-evident. That my one mistake was to say I was wrong about the fire because look at all the smores everything burning down led to. Yum.