Your life is leaning downhill sloping off the outer edge
Your undetermined oyster beds were found to be a hedge
You cause the kids of Elmer Fudd to feed the farmer whose
Cadaver's filled with onion rings and feet are filled with glue
Now, sinister exaggerator, what's your claim to fame?
Is still your favorite Ferlingetti found in Auntie Maim?
Your alter life is superceded only from above
Your heart is like a silken sponge that calls saliva love
