Ugh!

“Hey Fat!!! Sit down and shut up!” starts with butter on the butter on the corn half-baked concepts dragging from the board ‘cross the floor up to my pen. . . damn, this Prof. got two, too many blackboards she wasn’t looking at my feet when she said, “Size doesn’t matter” “Is that your tuba?” bring back the bumper sticker, I want: “Baby I’m Bored” take the nearest bus, a street-whale lobtailing curbs turn up your iPod and mosquito ‘em all nothing like that tin sound in the a.m. to make murderers of us all “Bum a smoke?” sometimes all that’s required is rust yup, I worry about that pair of shoes I threw out back in ‘82 are they cursing me for being next to whatever’s in that plastic container that’ll be here a thousand years from now? “Gotta do the floors.”