One Word: Potato
fridays poem is full of grace
but saturdays a whole different animal
unwrapped and baked
the potato cake
can’t cut the mustard
custard dreams from sleeping in
the weekend deep end
drops off the cliff and
nukes the grannies
the nooks and crannies
the bacon hidden
butter me up
and I smile
Consider yourself buttered. I’d forgotten how you like to do your inline double rhymes – the weekend deep end – yo me gusta. This one pops, fast track this baby.
those double rhymes are tasty – sour cream on my tater.