CoronaV test kits! So: where are they, Don...?
Days grow dark. Help's "too little, too late."
Still, our toilet's a showplace for caption'd pop art
scrawl'd in marker: loo tittle. (Loo Tate...?)
Moral:
For a good time, call Melania.
Poet Poe pens nonsense verse. "Plus...phun," puns Uly, "I disburse." Its gamut runs from spam to worse. The po'sy posted...? Poe's diverse -- most, postcards from his universe, replies to grudges he must nurse. My summary...? Let me be terse: a mitzva, mostly. (Not a curse.)
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