Story about a frog, about to start
pool cleaning that afternoon,
or house-painting, you know,
but he hadn't asked permission.
Soon enough, some pool-pet would
walk across, like the bottom of
the pool, or else, seeing the insides
of an avocado, be just jolly.
How else could I make this stuff up.
Years pass without problems like
cholesterol, botany, sweeping or even
shoveling the walk. Just, "What's
up," she'd say. Before he'd had a chance
to answer you know what, her body'd
ask him something else, almost encrypted.
What justified it? Who knows. Soon
after, he'll feel like going into battle. Later,
he'll crave sharply a slice of pie. He'll
be diminished, like after a hot bath.
