Pot Pies Are Back
Dispatch on the marquee: Pot pies are back.
They are. Pot pies are back.
The rope swing deposits children into the river. The franchisees are up to their waists
in condensed cream. Pot pies are back.
Base: poplar. Exponent: squirrel. The dogs exhaust
the picnic baskets. Logarithm: Pot pies are back.
On return to Ithaca, shedding the disguise and firing up
the calisthenics, Odysseus exclaimed: “[I’m paraphrasing].”
Not for the assholes in the capital pushing an Accord
through construction, pot pies are back.
The children spread through the meadows. They tackle. It can only
mean one thing. It can mean only one thing.