I have been outsonneted by a suction cup,
Clinging to my window like a starfish to the sea.
Lately my similes get away from me,
Dogs always unearthing hideous bones in
My backyard.
The curious climate of my moist mind
Is most conducive to marigolds, azaleas,
The pancreas.
My face is all sugar,
My tongue a cola.
See the stained glass the suction cup holds?
Memorabilia from an unremembered saint.


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