RIDING ON A RECKLESS SATELLITE TOWARD THE SUN
George Washington had sunlight in his face
as he crossed the Delaware with his mom.
Dogs do their best to run in comedy packs.
Pigeons have been reinventing themselves.
Virus rat threatens to run for president or dog catcher.
Polygamy goes back on the ballot for good.
Despair gives me the strength to charge my phone.
Hot tamales and the joke is once again on me.
The Milky Way looks a little ragged around the celestial edges.
Invisible is my current occupation of choice.
Plummeting toward the sun can take me to the top.
House plants have been growing green thumbs.
Satellites are taking long cigarette breaks after the sun goes down.
I find muddled to work in Sunday family reconciliations.
Cousins revel on the luxury of clowns tripping in the park.
The T-ball team never cheated when I was at bat.
70 years of misjudgments can lead to a demented king.
The late-night comedian was caught laughing
too loudly into the two-way mirror.
Ultimately camels are just spoiled asteroids that have not been potty trained.
I will give them two algorithms and call back in the morning.
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