The Fat Tuesday night rolls in
Like the clouds, as the animals
Stir their dinners and scurry and
Scuttle round, their sounds heard
By sharp dog ears alerted to this
More than us humans who would
Not stur if not for the cat’s purr or
A dog’s fur straight up, neat, sharp,
No radar no helicopter no pontoons
On that water’s opaque transfixing
Unknown depths beneath its surf yes
It’s face on which to surf a liquid green
Screen turf tuft of mullet hair stares at
Stars still indistinguishable from the
Baby blue puffy almost clear airs oft
So often unseen that scene above we
Are so oblivious to, we hardly see that
Straight ahead we are snoring in clouds
Our own making surround sounds ours
Them silences, too we make that screen
And buffer and delete those more fascinatingSounds
in leaps and bounds all around! So be more
Then so-so n alert at attention, let it IN!
Take your spin it is most certain not a sin!
Quinn Quinn Quinn Quinn Quinn!
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