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roots.

by Jared Fladeland

i remember my surrealist stage,
when pancake poodles ate
scarfinated flapjacks,
but the syrup wasn't cocaine
so they decided instead to order french toast cocktails.

the cat licking my arm
is Suicide Sydney,
who drinks a lot of caffeinated protein shakes
guaranteeing a slimmer, leaner waist line
while maintaining the silicon lips ordered
off the internet for sixteen ninety five.

Panic-Paris Prickley,
a dime of a gal on Hiroshima Street,
ate a lot of nails and screws and woodchips
so that she didn't gain an ounce
and she became so disposable that
she was melted down for scrap iron
to build the tanks that went to war.

aaah, my surrealist. I'll miss him.

12/20/2007

Posted on 12/20/2007
Copyright © 2024 Jared Fladeland

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