Souring his stomach from his glut
Angst gurgles into his gullet
Gaskets blown out, spewing spirits
We hear and run for the exits

Accusations pile at our feet
Spitting nothing new, same old beat
Bloated birds are gasping from the flu
Inhale all you see, Mr Q Magoo

“Oh Magoo, you’ve done it again!”
Meeting your only foe, vein to brain
Inhaled, and got by without a patch
Roaming over and under without a scratch

© 2012 Michael Yost 11/5

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