The egg-white mannequin sings, walking down
Pothole-gray sidewalks. To the Met he goes.
What is he looking for? Of course! His toes,
Which have been lost since the lawn-gnome facedown.
It had been Sydney versus Roslyn for
The title, King Crab. And the prize, you ask?
Peppermint wine in a trapezoid flask.
As the battle wore on, they struck a gopher,
Chopped some toes, and played with Play-doh.
The damage caused Google Translator
To speak only Spanish about pink meadows.
Eventually things came to a close.
The victors won with Nike’s bluster.
And off went the mannequin for his toes.