And now the sprinkler's constipated.
A sparrow walks, then bounces, then casts
the shadow of its tail across the lawn,
funny despite the butthole.
There's a plane: it's the muddy sky pushing
a travel pillow like a crucifix underpants floatation.
The blemish's exposed wires. That's not a normal
on switch, Scooby Doo.
If you moisturize it, a vuvuzela can produce
echolocation second only to Batman's.
If it's a bedpost, you'll lose consciousness.
Mired in what the villain, a gimp whose small plastic
fittings that held him to the floor had failed, putters
rather than flails around in.