Walking past what couldn't be made;
once or twice again as people laugh.
What did you do so unerringly; you
know it couldn't be done. There it goes.
I spliced a radish onto my sleeve, like
a red button. But always moist. Funny.
There's a beer joint on Main Street called
Olive's. It refuses to be what it really is.
If this is a distant place, I'll stay much
closer to home; next time. Far easier.