Your life is leaning downhill sloping off the outer edge Your undetermined oyster beds were found to be a hedge You cause the kids of Elmer Fudd to feed the farmer whose Cadavers filled with onion rings and feet are filled with glue Now sinister exaggerator, what's your claim to fame? Is still your favorite Ferlinghetti found in Auntie Maim? Your alter life is superseded only from above Your hear is like a silken sponge that calls saliva love