thermometer in the wrong side of mouth

twist it with soup, warm chicken broth
'n your mom's hairy corns floating atop.

"gross," say the kindy girl minds.
some of them 18, most almost 65.
jail bait and funeral expenses,

twist it with a chile relleno.

ho. bah, humbug, our 'ditty' of spring!
what, you want presents, what about this fine sun we receive?
why won't you grate you ungrateful child?

sushi at eight, pierogis for noon.
he's eating a horse, literally, at six.
(it's paarden rookvlees)
to make up for dinner in bhutan, last week.

"i ... i feel like ... meeting you"
says drunken diplomat to court jester's fool.
"ha ha ha" i enjoyed you, "ha ha ha"
so trisyllabicly trite tonight,

oh so ... so. so. possibility to feel like this.

nasally fluent yet phlegmatically crude,
he stuttered his nines at the start.
it's as far has he got, as far as he got,
especially as an employee at the 99c store.