My thoughts are cross dressers
drinking five dollar bottles of wine
while performing a maladroit square dance
in a moon bounce. When they ricochet into speech
they make no more sense than acid tubas,
but sound just as lovely. Pretty little fools that they are,
they apply too much glitter and lopsided lashes
to look more like basic babes. I’d like to eat them
like pulp fiction candy, but that craving is biological.
They are my own organic mucous taffy.
To the average consumer they’re probably
comparable to those suckers encased with crickets
and scorpions. I can’t really think of any other product
that is all at once so unappealing, intriguing,
sugary, creepy, and comical. See what I mean now?
My thoughts are so absurd they think they are