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.