My Stomach Flew

Blowing chunks I felt the special gnawing days ago
A sign of things to come
And things to go
Flying from my mouth
While farther south
The end of lunch as we know it
Leaves me dry as a bone
In a bagful of powdered desiccant
In the Sonoran desert
At noon.

by Jeff on Monday, October 27, 2008

2 comments:

  1. Eccentric Scholar6:00 AM UTC

    Oh no . . . So sorry to hear this! Your last four lines of "dry" humor are exquisite, though.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Jeff1:23 PM UTC

    Thanks, but . . . well, it didn't turn out as expected, as you'll see from the new post that just went up . . .

    ReplyDelete

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