Vruvvi, the bumblebee, flew across the country
to taste the salty sea, to enjoy liberty,
and two weeks on the coast, so she could boast
of cheese on toast and roast leg of lamb,
better than Arab spam, gyros for forgotten heroes
on pita, with tomato basil soup made by Rita,
because she makes the grade and takes the cake,
for Vruvvi to journey forever and a day
to witness history in the making, raking
in the dough by manifesting prosperity.
Vruvvi visualizes silver and gold, shivers
at the sight of a fat stack of bills, thrills
at her bed covered with Benjamins, wins
the prize for sugarcoated lies, her thighs
tremble as a bumblebee to meet Mumble
Bunny behind the old oak tree where they tie
a yellow ribbon in remembrance of Bon Jean
who died after the war of syphilis, he spent
his free time visiting the shores of Qingdao
to screw dozens of whores behind the brewery.
No comments:
Post a Comment