The sun rose cockeyed today.
Crows fly backwards in a misplaced sky.
The limbs of trees cut the tune into ¾ time.
Cord wood has been maliciously maligned.
There is no rhyme to reason to end the line.
Two plus two no longer add up to four.
Upside down, all the windows and doors.
The rancher changed course and was
quartered by the horse. Topsy turvy the
mince meat pie. The season to end all reason
was chosen by the malfeasant conductor
of the Late Late Show. Gothic became
agnostic during the mid-term and no one
could explain. Glue lost its bond and
refused to hold on. You and I have not a
clue as to why things are the way they are.
The podiatrist awoke one morning denying
the existence of toes. Pass the mustard, my
reasoning is half-baked. The magistrate misplaced
his car keys and his whole day went to hell in a
hand basket. You ordered pastrami and discovered
too late that the butcher gave you corned beef
instead. It was then you realized you got up
club-footed on the wrong side of the bed.
There are no do-overs, my friend. Live with it!
After the Reformation nothing was ever the
same again. It’s no wonder old men tend to
succumb to incontinence. Here, pull my finger.
-30-
Chris Hanch 9-9-2022
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