My turtle is left handed
(Or footed, I should say)
He cooks and eats and plays guitar
All night and yes, all day.

My rabbit is a weird one,
Her fur a shade of blue.
Though on Tuesdays, it turns yellow.
I don't know what to do.

My prize pig would be normal,
Though I tell you with a sigh,
He blows raspberry bubbles,
A mile wide and high.

A farmer named Cane bought a goat
And was alarmed to find it could float
It drifted away,
All while chewing its hay,
And a writer of this story wrote

Please, if you are one of concern,
For this goat and the farmer in turn
Know that it is quite true
That the goat as he flew
For the ground he did simply not yearn

Once more, our friend Cane
Was bewildered not pained
To see his new animal fly
And as the goat rose,
Well, he crinkled his nose,
And he smiled as he said a "Goodbye!"

I pull up to the drive-in
My least favorite coffee shop
Nope, decide to park my car
Get out, forget to lock

Packed to the brim,
This pit looks grim
But I do need my coffee
They might as well
Open a hotel
And have a giant lobby

I wait in line 'till half past nine
No one has time for this
Only the hopeless addicts
And my name is on the list

I order a lot of latte,
But I am not prepared
Too sweet to eat, and much less drink
Four bucks? You think it's fair?

Between the screams of sugar
My tongue complains of ash
All I want is roasted beans
Not burnt. Too much to ask?

I feel cheated, chug it down
And throw away my cup
Off to work, and with a frown,
In traffic, I am stuck

Of course I talk, and I complain,
And chip, and gripe, and whine
But tomorrow I'll be here again
The same thing every time.

Einstein defines stupidity
Actions of repetition.
Again into infinity,
And this is my condition.