fat-backed rat finks
roller rink
kitchen sink
thinking back to Corporal Klinger
and Klingons in small thongs
smoking star ship bongs
in a smelly pond
broken wand only sparks slightly
mightily I try to be
free from discriminatory flees
I sit on the floor and be
quiet as a church mouse
in the glass house built by my
light-skinned spouse,
the louse trounced
pouncing on the bouncing ball
falling into the dousing mall
desert grouse espousing rabble-rousers  
in denim trousers
holding perennial flowers
while the gourd towers
bow their heads to the sunset
vetted Reds in beds of lead
break bread with the dead
instead of raking fall leaves
betting on getting let out
cloutless louts just about shout to be heard
and the herd moves forward
every methodically –