Mad Hatter

09 Jan

Reynold’s Wrap my head. 5G waves,
coast to coast, are frying my big fat
egg. Using my ring, I decode AM
transmissions from not-so alien
reptilians whose books fill my shelves.

The obelisk just showed up. Big bulbous
eyes in a pinhead paralyzed my reason.
Area 51 housed grays, I know it. Hillary
promised to give us the skinny. And
there was a firing squad at Dealy ’63.

I’m being clever. I chuckle at myself.
But I find more than ample reason
to wrap my head.


Limericist 2021

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Posted by on January 9, 2021 in Poetry


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