I can never get too many signs
Said a cousin of mine named Boo Rimes.
We gave them to her every holiday.
She is stapling them onto her ceiling now today.
They are in her bathroom, her kitchen too.
She walks around them, careful with her shoe.
Wall to wall and side to side in green, red and blue.
I think you have enough, I said to my Cousin Boo.
(The Kyoto Protocol, an international
treaty signed in December 1997, commits
member states to reduce their carbon
dioxide emissions. The United States is
the only First World nation not to ratify
the treaty.)
Spend it, squander, swill down, swallow,
waste it, wassail, welter, wallow.
There's no "I" in America.
(Well, maybe one.)
Billow, burn up, bloat and burgeon,
Don't stint (see stomach-stapling surgeon).
There's no "me" in America.
(Well, maybe one.)
Blow up. Bulge. Indulge your senses.
Guzzle, grab, gorge - don't heed no fences.
There's no "crime" in America,
no restraints, no consequences.
(Well, maybe one.)
Oh Paper Clip, Dear Paper Clip
let me always sing your praises!
You keep my pages held tight
without the violence of stapling
and yet your grip is so gentle as
to release a sheet without a blemish.
When the project in your care concludes
you go back into the desk desk drawer
with nary a complaint or a quibble
and fall back into the stiff routine
of anticipating the next chance
to make yourself useful.
You are so loyal and understanding
that even when I ask you to be
a hanger of christmas ornaments
you immediately bend to the task.
You don't even mind
when I straighten you out
and use you like a toothpick.
You remain the consummate aide
through both thick reams and thin.
You have won my heart
you little metallic angel
and if Mother approves
I have every intention
of making you an honest binder.
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