Counting Green Fruit Loops
Counting Green Fruit Loops
Wearing his spandex boxer shorts outside in the snow
To get the paper, dancing to Dire Straits with my IPOD
And my sports bra on. I notice the vacuum salesmen
in the shop below our apartment, pointing and laughing
at me! Yet this brings me no pain really, they just like
the curves they see.
They know I’m his Tid-Bits, that we wine and dine together often.
But I’m in love; my head is full of wormholes when I’m around him.
I don’t see this love convention drifting away or turning into a
Nuclear waste site any time soon.
I just know this gig is going to last because we’re friends too.
We both believe that this UFO obsessed world is full of pain
And to keep from going insane, you need to count more then
Sheep when you have a bad case of insomnia.
It’s better to go to the Hammond Kitchen on the corner, the one that
Rosie owns, where they have a cereal bar. Go there and count
How many green fruit loops you see, or buy a telescope and start
Counting how many lunar craters you see on the moon.
Count until you fall asleep standing on your feet or fall
Face first into the Listerine soaked tissue that’s piled
Up in the waste basket by the window, underneath
The medicine cabinet.
If we can conquer our insomnia together, then we can
Conquer the world of green together.
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