You have the instincts of a roadhouse hen
hypnotized by a toothpick.
How's about another
hogshead from the pantry?
She's not Helen, after all.
I blew it--that's what the
glassblower said,
speaking freely
out of the part of him
that was an idiot.
That ought to get their goat.
Too bad about the goat.
We'll get it right next time.
By Lee Upton