A cue the sea.

Igloo a you,

Igloo a me,

Igloo a them,

Tissue a key.

Perchance a view,

Ooo prance a bee,

They dance ago,

A cue the sea.

Glue

I know.

I know.

You said not to go.

But I had to.

I had to.

I ran out of glue.

And now,

And now,

I've managed somehow--

--Disgraced--

--Disgraced--

To glue my hands to my face...

Kazoo

I blew and I blew

Into the kazoo

Until I just knew

That my face had turned blue.

"Well this just won't do,"

Thought I myself to.

Yet I did continue...

And passed out right on cue.

Some pointless haiku.

I heart the airport.

It's true, yo, I really do.

It's very shiny.

I heard a seashell.

It sounded like the ocean.

Then it bit my lobe.

O lark just outside,

You sing a song of such joy.

But please, let me sleep!

Utter a word now.

Okay, now utter one more.

Ha! You said two words!

The last line shall be

Made up of only one word:

Hippopotamus.

Tacos at Midnight

In deepest green and lonely land,

Across the shores of grass,

A secret sits, run down and old,

Beneath the starry mass.

It waits till dark, then comes alive.

A beacon in the night.

And those within the privilaged know,

Flock to its twinkling light.

It has no sign, just flashing bulbs

On walls of peeling paint.

Most wouldn't look a second glance,

Or even call it quaint.

But deep within this tiny shack

Awaits a glorious sight.

The best late snack you'd ever taste.

Called, "Tacos At Midnight."

1853

The dust flew high,

The heads hung low,

As the folks in town all watched him go.

A man with steel,

A man with tin,

And fearless, with no next of kin.

What good he'd been,

What things he'd done,

Such honor for the town he'd won.

Now all was well

And he was gone,

A westward race against the dawn.

He would be missed,

But each one knew

The things undone he had to do.

So on he rode,

Into the night,

To find that dog and set things right...

This Great Place

They knew not where or when they were,

Or how they came to be.

They only knew the shadow's cool

Beneath the cherry tree.

Like broken glass the meadow's grass

Shone bright beneath the sun.

Yet cricket songs among the throngs

Of trees said day was done.

To venture out, to venture in,

They were not keen to go.

But then a girl began to twirl,

First quick and then quite slow.

Then off she ran across the land

Into the wild beyond.

And found that day a place to play

Around a lily pond.

Then one, then two, without a shoe,

The rest began the race.

To find just who, like me and you,

They were in this great place.