Cold footlong hotdog
The spell is cast
There is no room
For analgesic suncast
Of longterm allergy
To sombre wedding frosting
On my pi’s outward surface with
Cold hearted, gloomy waste products
Of mayonnaise and avo
For there are times when little repays
The aftermath of cold
Hotdog appetite and longing
For a footlong day when
Nothing is hot except a dog’s
Breath upon your face.
BCDFM
COPYRIGHT BRUCE E SAUNDERS 2020