Satire at best loses its flavor when ingested with virtuous candy,
sort of introspect non logic in a context of interpolation in regions of sand dune lithographs.
I knew a guy down south that mowed everybody’s yard. They arrested him finally.
Benevolent banality gets five to seven so I tend my flower vessels evenly,
with care to not rake the leaves in dew. It is my sarcasm that the comedy builds from,
then languishes in my proclivity to count the birds flitting in the hazelnut bushes. – Sinz