One
wonder if anyone living remembers the day
that the
Sons of September spent giving pink lemons away.
'Midst a
rumbling of voices, they sit, ur-obsess'd with dull knives.
Though a
rum thing, some boys may recall this the rest of their lives.
What is
more, live there any who haven't forgotten those times
when the
Daughters of August disposed of core-rotten Key limes...?
Since their
day, the demand for potassium citrate has dropp'd.
(As for
pink lemonade...? Drinking that has, effectively, stopp'd.)
