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YOU CAN'T WRITE A POEM ABOUT HOTDOGS
May 13, 2009
YOU CAN’T WRITE A POEM ABOUT HOTDOGS
MORNING THE ONLY THING I WANT IS A HOTDOG
THE SHINEY STICK OF MEAT THAT SMELLS GOOD
I WALK PAST THE LAKE WHERE PEOPLE ARE SWIMMING
PEOPLE ARE TALKING ABOUT HOTDOGS
I AM GOING CRAZY
I FEEL DIZZY AS I STAGGER MY WAY TO THE HOTDOG STAND
I AM THERE THREE PEOPLE FROM THE FRONT
EVERYTHING SMELLS LIKE HOTDOGS
I TAKE ADEEP BREATH AND PASS OUT
WHEN I WAKE I AM NEXT TO TWO HOTDOGS AND I AM IN HEAVEN
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