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.


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

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