Fluffy vessels

Bob boundlessly

Atop

The Warm chocolate waves.

That are only dictated,

By the occasional

Prescence, of the

Crescent spoon that

Hangs just below the horizon,

Of this Styrofoam ocean.

Pudgy fingers

Like greedy

Pirates,

Pluck the fuffy barrels of sugar

From the frothy troughs of

The seasonal soup.

And fire them like cannonballs,

Into a greedy mouth,

Where they bounce 

Like

Balls

Off a trampoline tounge,

And

Ricochet  from tooth to tooth

Like a runaway pinball.

(Obliterating the former high score)

The marshmallows are not afraid.

Because the teeth, although obviously sharp,

Resemble the marshmallows, in both appearance,

And in splendid,

Candid spirit.

(When in reality, this coudnt be further from the tooth.)

It’s length

Can only be determined

By circumstantial circumference,

Divided by a full moon,

And then

Multiplied by

How

Many

Skips

A particular rock will take,

On its trip

Across the pond.

Heaved by the same

Hands that

Sweat at the sight of

Wet cement.

Stable sidewalks,

Entertain the tiniest of traffic.

 Busy red ants mingling in straight lines with songbirds  soaring overhead,

And centipedes filling in the gaps.

Forming very formidable processions,

That shield

The traveling salesman,

Or

A salesman traveling,

From the judgemental eyes of the

Turtles nestled in the shallow

Regions of a considerably

Deep

Lake.

(That could very easily be mistaken as stepping stones.)

In a patch of grass

Near a long ago,

Widowed,

Willow,

 Is where the wonderful weeds grow.

Where the old band once stood.

Where any ordinary

Tramp armed with only

A fishing pole

(And an adaquete wrist)

Can easily part an entire orchestra of

Former dinosaurs,

Without shouting or even

Sharpening his wicked  guillotine.

And this is  especially where

That same tramp,

Or any

Ordinary hero,

Will  always get a

Constant,

Standing ovation

From the  always thankful,

Supporting cast of surrounding trees.

The field of straw is a quiet field.

One grasshoppers buzz

Silently

And the noisy wind howls like a restless cowboy.

Over the rustling grass.

These are the only sounds to be heard.

(Anywhere)

Residing elsewhere,

In these very

Plain,

Plains,

A white rabbit stretches out in the

Afternoon sun.

It has enchanting red eyes,

And  they are wide open,

(While only appearing semi-squinted)

And they are more than capable of finding

Every infinite flaw

With a very finite world.

The wind picks up.

(But not significantly)

However it does stir,

The peaceful ears of the

Peaceful rabbit.

They perk up,

Probing like curious satellite dishes,

Furiously searching for signals.

…And like a grizzly bear

The white rabbit

The white magician.

Rears up,

And

Surveys the empty field,

Left

To

Right.

And the back again.

And without warning,

The white rabbit

Darts off

Into a vacant hole

In the still very vacant field.

Then the skies open up.

And

The

Rain

Comes

Down.

Although they are

Currently enrolled

In the same field of study.

Lavalamps

And

Aquariums

Have a great deal

To learn about one another.

(And both beam at the prospect)

Of potentially being mentored

By

Mermaids.

In the humble quest, For the most adaquete ambiance,

The starving refrigerator hums perfectly

In key with the flashy television.

The radioactive microwave buzzes,

So loudly,

That the lazy wallpaper

 Is wilted away into simple wallflowers.

And somewhere else,

The air-condition

Kicks on,with a subtle,

Sub-zero

Sleight-of-hand

And a very sleepy

Houseguest,

Slips off

His

Or

Her

Socks.

When

And If,

One treacherous,

Yet,

Beautiful weekday evening,

Every firefly is

All-at-once

 Plucked from the sky,

(Like  a feather from a fowl )

On some cruel and lonely

Farm,

Far,

Far,

Away,

By an always animated farmer,

Dressed quite casually,

In ancient overalls.

The bumblebees will hang their head’s,

And sheath their stingers.

( However, only for a moment.)

Because after a  long day,

Of sweet talking the hungry hibiscuses,

They’ll have to find the strength,

And establish enough energy,

To pollenate the stars,

Too.

They

Reign

Down.

Like an occasional meteor shower.

pat!

pat!

pat!

Some, luckily roll back down.

Like a hoola-hoop skipping across a busy black-top

The others,

(The few, not-so-lucky ones)

Remain flush atop the plane of

Tar and tack,

After falling gently,

With the excess foliage that

Autumn always seems to offer,

 And now,

Flopping to a tired stop.

Coming to a temporarily

Infinite

Layover.

These formerly sky bound relics,

Eventually become permanent

Pancakes,

On a shingled stove top.

The former families of these, now

Unclaimed reclamations,

Don’t mourn their misplaced plastic companions.

But instead,

They marvel at how impossibly difficult it can be to draw one,

Let alone make

That same perfect circle

Fly.

If a casual man

Witnesses an even more

Casually dressed

(And quite a bit more daring)

 Man,

Kicking

And obliterating

A helpless sandcastle.

(A former kingdom of seashells.)

While wearing

A lazy pair of

Sandals.

It could seem ironic at the time.

But after a short meal,

(Heavy in melted dairy)

And the inevitable sting of the afternoon sunburn,

And a casual can of soda,

That contains more foam that the

Ocean

Itself.

This incident can then be dismissed as

Simple repetition.

As the wind blows, and as the cars swoosh

To and from work.

They float and curl,

Weaving and winding

Like a sideways snake,

Etching hieroglyphics

Onto scorching desert sand.

These silky husks,

Scattered about the

Silent sidewalks.

Although,

These reticulated relegations now simply  function as every day litter.

(While still maintaining their serpentine qualities.)

However,

They don’t lash out at the unguarded ankles of

Delirious passerby ‘s

Or battle a courageous mongoose.

Instead they lay like idle landmines,

Or a still garden-hose.

The condoms,

The bubble wrap,

And the blue tarps,

The blue snakes.

These great many snakeskins.

These venomous monuments,

Have become more abundant,

Than the skeletons of the scientists

That  bravely ventured to the

No-so-far-away

Medians,

Of the countless

Intergalactic intersections,

To orchestrate research on

These earthly abominations.

Copious notes

Should be taken

In the field,

Or fields,

That carefully study the scholastics,

Of a marble.

Because upon

An elaborate dissection,

Vast amounts of simultaneous similarities,

Can be found.

Between the marvelous marble,

And the frosty snow-globe.