...but here I am:  Miss Oscar the Grouch.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCLXXIII)


So pull your cat out of your bag to scale,
And I'll watch "*****" foot it, for a sense
Of all the tricks you like to show off thence,
Disgust you culled mine likewise in betrayl,
Cuz that's 'most what is left.  Her blonde detail
Crimped to effect, (and girls know girls from hence)
This sordid game two play sans tickets, whence
Let's play it to the hilt, swords drawn, t'avail.
If only I could listen to frogs' cure
For fevered brows, but it's TOO COLD.  Did you
Call in the weather to draw up as twere
What I should feel, playing me the fool anew
For love; or come, what gives?  Meow Mix poor,
I'm barking up no trees--um, are we through?

12Apr19c