Lemons swaying in the Breeze Lithmus paper made of cheese Banana Potroast attracts no fleas Arn't you glad I'm not a poet?

Spinach washcloths scrubbing hard Smiling faces eating chard In strange movies lepers starred What if I were the last poet?

If this all seems standard faire Nothing does make you so stare As Curdled broccoli in my hair Boy, I'm glad I'm not a poet

Thought of that as I was falling asleep last night.