You've reach'd a parting of the ways.
Just one you now must choose.
Croaks Lawn Care worker M. Francaise,"
"Comb grassplots...? Je refuse'!"
(The Road Not Taken
& The Toad Not Rakin.')
Moral:
Ape Yogi: when you meet a fork,
take it! (How I ♥ New York!)
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.)
Thursday, February 13, 2020
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