the frogmen & the beekeepers

not just the policemen

but the frogmen & the beekeepers

are getting younger too

& yesteryear’s saplings

are forests instead

i walk in them each morning

& often still get lost

or stuck in throbbing thicket

in between broadsides

& water slide moments

hostas in a bathtub

where’s my pile cream?

the queen’s a bloody bloke

who married a mare

the price of eggs is soaring

like a paragliding buzzard

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