Josh Randolph Carter Rolling Squat Thrusters

The rolling squat thrusters release
orbs of deadly song thrushes.
Belize seems close at hand.

Meddlesome feather dusters
are ripe with envy and
point accusing fingers at
every loathsome jitterbug
who dances by.

It's the high season.
Everyone wears silly hats
and farts in unison and
gets roaring drunk and
eats patty cakes.

If you're lost this is
the place to find yourself
even more lost.

In desperation you write
letters begging for help,
Rescue me! and place them
in bottles and throw the
bottles into municipal
ponds and fountains.

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