In this Circular World
by Alex Stout
So I was at this fare,
and this one guy with spiked hair,
asked me if I would dare,
and I said I didn’t care,
and said so with much flair,
as one who would juggle a pear,
walking past a sign in front of a lair,
that says “Trespassers Beware,”
which doesn’t really seem fair,
because why should I have to worry and not some guy who is not seen as a trespasser, which some people might say is discrimination, but I suppose that the art of security and protection really is just discriminating against those who might pose a threat.
by Alex Stout
So I was at this fare,
and this one guy with spiked hair,
asked me if I would dare,
and I said I didn’t care,
and said so with much flair,
as one who would juggle a pear,
walking past a sign in front of a lair,
that says “Trespassers Beware,”
which doesn’t really seem fair,
because why should I have to worry and not some guy who is not seen as a trespasser, which some people might say is discrimination, but I suppose that the art of security and protection really is just discriminating against those who might pose a threat.
So anyway this guy,
who had on his nose a fly,
told me that I would die,
because I ate too much rye,
and not enough pie,
and lived in a pig sty,
was often exposed to lye,
and all too often did sigh,
and never enough did cry,
and that in about twenty-two days or so I would get hit by a semi-truck on a highway and slowly bleed to death, even though the ambulance would arrive quite promptly, but honestly is there much you can do for a patient when it is difficult to identify which end to lay on the pillow of a bed—that is, if you were placing the patient into one?
It gave me such a fright,
that my tongue I did bite,
as I ran off into the night,
knocking over some kid with a kite,
and I missed my flight,
which would have taken me to a great height,
but now it can’t because there was no light,
to help me see all right,
and so without my sight,
I got lost and ended up wandering around for weeks and trying to hitchhike on the highway, which as you know is not as safe as it used to be as evidenced by the fact that about twenty-two days after that one guy scared me I was holding my thumb up for a ride from this one semi-truck but instead was plowed into the earth as it screamed over me, veering slightly off course and off the road into the sagebrush.
Alexander Stout has a nervous habit of gripping his pocketknife when meeting strangers. He currently lives in Taylorsville, Utah, where he longs for a slice of real Chicago-style deep dish pizza.
who had on his nose a fly,
told me that I would die,
because I ate too much rye,
and not enough pie,
and lived in a pig sty,
was often exposed to lye,
and all too often did sigh,
and never enough did cry,
and that in about twenty-two days or so I would get hit by a semi-truck on a highway and slowly bleed to death, even though the ambulance would arrive quite promptly, but honestly is there much you can do for a patient when it is difficult to identify which end to lay on the pillow of a bed—that is, if you were placing the patient into one?
It gave me such a fright,
that my tongue I did bite,
as I ran off into the night,
knocking over some kid with a kite,
and I missed my flight,
which would have taken me to a great height,
but now it can’t because there was no light,
to help me see all right,
and so without my sight,
I got lost and ended up wandering around for weeks and trying to hitchhike on the highway, which as you know is not as safe as it used to be as evidenced by the fact that about twenty-two days after that one guy scared me I was holding my thumb up for a ride from this one semi-truck but instead was plowed into the earth as it screamed over me, veering slightly off course and off the road into the sagebrush.
Alexander Stout has a nervous habit of gripping his pocketknife when meeting strangers. He currently lives in Taylorsville, Utah, where he longs for a slice of real Chicago-style deep dish pizza.
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