We are bereft of brachiation
Brandishing our hats like baseball bats
They place sovereign sandcastles on the table
Like mandalas of sound
Until we all drown in waterfalls of pounding words
More absurd than anything you’ve ever tasted
I complain more often than i’d like to
But then again these days, who doesn’t
I won’t be punished by your pancakes
Nor chase you through the pouring rain