The onion tells a sad, sad story--
A man walks into a bar,
orders a cup overflowing
with his own medicine.
Whose job is it to sever
the rabbit's foot? he asks.
The butcher, as innocent
as a sweater. Scissors
remind him of his ex-girlfriend.
In the corner booth
the Freudian analyzes
his patient's inner thighs,
frustrated as the tack--
People are introduced
to themselves in dimmer light
thinks the man, approaching
a woman as she exits the bathroom,
a slight cup of water,
(the name of the paler sister)
her dimpled thighs carefully spackled.
When she prays, the windows
get foggy. Wait, wait--
I know this one!
They looked at each other
& laughed--they'd both
cut off the tip of their tongue.
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