If eggs really fry on the street
When summer makes roads overheat,
How can ants pillage
And cleanup the spillage
With blisters all over their feet?
I’m proud of the sweat that I make,
But somehow my smell’s hard to take?
The same goes for you,
You stink like me too.
We both need to jump in Ayer Lake.
Where boats had once floated last Autumn,
There's a vastly reduced water column.
No waves and no wake
In Tempe Town Lake
Topside is now on the bottom.
There once was a man from Tacoma
Who pined for sweet desert aroma.
This fair-haired palooka
From Straight Juan de Fuca,
Was treated for skin car-ci-no-ma.
"You eat prickly pear fruit, Mr. Young?"
The knave, in his hand, it still clung.
"There are glochids," said he.
"Yes, I know, ninety-three.
They're embedded all over my tongue."