Counting Green Fruit Loops

Counting Green Fruit Loops Wearing his spandex boxer shorts outside in the snow To get the paper, dancing to Dire Straits with my IPOD And my sports bra on. I notice the vacuum salesmen in the shop below our apartment, pointing and laughing at me! Yet this brings me no pain really, they just like the curves they see. They know I’m his Tid-Bits, that we wine and dine together often. But I’m in love; my head is full of wormholes when I’m around him. I don’t see this love convention drifting away or turning into a Nuclear waste site any time soon. I just know this gig is going to last because we’re friends too. We both believe that this UFO obsessed world is full of pain And to keep from going insane, you need to count more then Sheep when you have a bad case of insomnia. It’s better to go to the Hammond Kitchen on the corner, the one that Rosie owns, where they have a cereal bar. Go there and count How many green fruit loops you see, or buy a telescope and start Counting how many lunar craters you see on the moon. Count until you fall asleep standing on your feet or fall Face first into the Listerine soaked tissue that’s piled Up in the waste basket by the window, underneath The medicine cabinet. If we can conquer our insomnia together, then we can Conquer the world of green together.