My Love is Like an Orange,
all shiny and orange
and filled with a citrus burst
to quench your lonely thirst.

My love is not like porridge
or storage
or forage

For my love is like an orange
and…

Bugger, nothing rhymes with orange.

Nevermind.

My Love is Like Silver
lightning-quick and quite valuable
but with great heat it is malleable
to the shape of your heart
or at least the romantic heart-shape as it commonly appears
since a real heart-shape would just look weird.

My love is not like a sliver
or pilfer
or Dilbert

For my love is like silver
and…

Fuck me twice!

My Love is Like a Month
long and neatly ordered
and on a calendar it’s bordered
by your graceful face and little flower shapes.

My love is not like a mouth
or a dunce
or a billionth

For my love is like a month
and…

Oh, fuck it all. My love is like a goddamned flower.

Blown by the Sun
I remember the fire-hanging hair, weaved together on the head / Of the bouncy, busty, bubbling night club stripper

Motherfucker Goose
Little Bo Peep / has lost her sheep / so she smacks his ass / with her gigantic staff / until he learns his lesson / or the hour he paid for is up / the costume costs extra

Quadrophonia
“Ding-dong, the witch has snacks, that Rax hires blacks and Jack hates jacks. Which old witch? Fool, how many witches you know? Shiiiit.”

Popular Road
Yes, I took the road well-traveled / And my seams kept sewn, my sweater stayed raveled / My shoes suffered no pain or remorse / Nor did my steed—just as my horse