Homophones Are Fun

Sundae bar in the middle of a lazy hazy uneventful Sunday Jam and butterscotch with sprinkles as we devour, laugh and jamb Phase three of the week which has done her best to poke me and faze, Lax and chill, slipshod in ability to confuse shows that sister lacks Witch qualities I had always attributed to her, ideas of which Damn near anything can parade as truth while I create my sundae dam Fourth time she has been back to the bar. Her greed parading forth. I’d like to know what she thinks of me as she stares at me bright eyed.