Sunday, June 2, 1996

Fastfood ... To Go

Here's a really kewl poem that gives me visions of NuYowk 42nd St. Read along and you'll understand what I mean! :-)

From a tree in total concentration,
An arachnid deftly checks the tension -
Silken network of grand construction,
That subtly masks an eerie intention.

Comes a fly a-buzzin' and hip-hoppin'
The world to him's one big trash of eatin'.
Circles merrily the busy spider,
Sez to himself, "'Tis a good day to jive with her!"

"Hey, big mama, wuz happ'nin'?"
Queried fly to suspended denizen.
"Sun's a-shinin' and I'm a-waitin'
But yo'z jez mopin', we should be jazzin'!"

"Shake those eight legs, show me those thighs,
Move yer big butt now, and exercise!"
But big black mama just looked at him,
With an eyeful so compoundly grim!

"Mama, yo'z cold, I'd better split,
Somewhere down there is a sure hit . . ."
But the fly just got a bit too careless,
Snagged himself on web's stickiness!

Big mama comes down hip-hoppin'
With utensils in tow ready for feastin'.
Gobbled the fly and swallowed him whole,
Smacked, burped and just said, " . . . Cool!"

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