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Whipped Cream and Lettuce

There once was a girl whose name was Sierra
& she could lasso a Spanish bull with one hand tied
to a parking meter, victim of a petty crime on the open
prairie of life.  What the hell is a Hobacake anyway?
& no, nobody actually expects that question to get answered
with a vacant stare. Then there are the formalities of holy
ash and caron.  The urn that holds  what is left after green
smoke puffs up  obscuring the mind.
I sit and think "I like pine.."
I like hammer sauce. Hell, I even like the name Anfernee.
Who I happened to talk to in the car this morning. He said
to try the orange one. Said his experience was that folks
mostly just liked to eat the cream filling. So he always got
paint on his overalls, the ones he wore in the smoke & the
grueling recognition of the kind of hard work he was destined
to spend some time in a parking lot with his girlfriend. Only
the devil would know what to do  with an excess of
whipped cream left on the lettuce leaves they soaked. 
-finished 5/26/2012 1:05:11 PM PST
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Project name: Ode to Hobacakes
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